UC-NRLF 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


SHIP     "  SWIFT." 


THE  GAM, 


BEING  A  GROUP  OF  WHALING   STORIES 


BY 

CAPT.  CHARLES  HENRY  BOBBINS, 


WHO  GRATEFULLY  ACKNOWLEDGES  THE  EDITORIAL 

SUGGESTIONS    OF    HIS    FRIEND, 

MR.  ROLLIN  LYNDE  HARTT. 


NEW  BEDFORD: 

H.  S.  HUTCHINSON  &  COMPANY. 
1899. 


(/ 


Copyright,  1899, 
By  LIZZIE  POPE  ROBBINS. 


All  rights  reserved. 


R.  H.  Blodgett  &  Co.,  Printers, 
30  Bromfield  St.,  Boston. 


INTRODUCTION. 

I  HAVE  for  many  years  wondered  that  the  romantic  and 
exciting  experiences  of  the  whale  fishery  have  not  been 
preserved  more  often  in  records  in  our  literature.  Occa 
sionally  we  have  had  sketches  of  one  or  another  detail  in 
this  marvellous  adventure.  But  it  would  seem  as  if  the 
brave  men  who  engage  in  such  adventure  handle  harpoons 
more  willingly  than  they  handle  pens.  And  so  you  shall 
hear  many  a  story  of  such  adventure  told  by  men  who 
speak  of  what  they  have  seen,  while  you  do  not  read  one 
such  story.  I  was  very  glad,  therefore,  to  hear  that  Capt. 
Charles  H.  Eobbins  had  put  to  paper  some  accounts  of  his 
own  earlier  experiences,  and  I  am  very  glad  that  he  has 
been  persuaded  to  publish  them.  I  am  glad  to  say  to 
any  friend  of  mine  that  he  may  place  confident  reliance 
on  the  narrative  of  Capt.  Eobbins,  as  being  that  of  one 
who  tells  of  what  he  saw,  of  which  indeed  he  was  much 

himself. 

EDWARD   E.  HALE. 

ROXBURY,  May  27,  1899. 


CONTENTS. 

THE  FATTED  CALF       ...  ...         1 

THE  GREAT  LEVIATHAN      .  .         .         .         .27 

BRINGING  MR.  TOWNSEND  BACK  AGAIN    .  48 

RIGHT  WHALES    .         .         .         .  .         .         .63 

PITCAIRN'S  ISLAND       .         '.    '     .         .         .         .         .       67 

RUDDER  SIMPSON,  MYSELF  AND  THE  PERSONAGE      .       72 

THE  CAST-AWAY 93 

THE  WHALEMAN  WHO  WENT  ON  THE  STAGE   .         .118 

"  WHALES  HAS  FEELIN'S  " 127 

THE  GAM 143 

AUGUSTIN  BAY    ........     156 

THE  ALBATROSS  .......     166 

THE  CAPTAIN  193 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

SHIP  "  SWIFT  "......     FRONTISPIECE 

THE   GAM 6 

OUR  FIRST  SPERM   WHALE          .....       38 

CUTTING  IN  A  WHALE         ......       46 

OUR  FIRST  RIGHT  WHALE  .....       64 

THE  STOVEN  BOATS .66 

THE  SHIP  "  SWIFT  "  OFF  PITCAIRN'S  ISLAND    .         .       69 
MAN  OVERBOARD  OFF  CAPE  HORN     ....       91 

A  BURIAL  AT  SEA       .......     106 

THE  BARK  "HOPE"  TOWING  OFF  SHORE  .         .     114 

THE  FIGHTING  WHALE 133 

THE  BARK  " CLARA  BELL" 155 

ST.  ELMO'S  FIRE OPP.  P.  171 

ROUNDING  CAPE  OF  GOOD  HOPE  .  .  .  .175 
"THOMAS  POPE"  BEFORE  THE  STORM  .  .  .178 
"  THOMAS  POPE  "  IN  THE  HURRICANE  .  .  .  185 
"THOMAS  POPE"  UNDER  JURY  MASTS  .  .  .  189 
LANDING  PLACE,  ST.  HELENA  .  .  .  OPP.  r.  195 
THE  "BRIARS"  ...  .  "  197 

"  LADDER  HILL  "  AT  ST.   HELENA  "        201 


THE  FATTED  CALF. 


1  There 's  many  a  slip  'twixt  the  two  mugs  !  " 

—  O'Honlihan's  Proverbs. 


"  NOT  by  any  means,"  said  the  Girl.  "  On  the 
other  hand,  you  are  very  vividly  remembered  !  " 

"And  by  what?" 

"  By  lots  of  things  —  glorious  things,  too  —  but 
I  hardly  think  you're  proud  of  them  now  !  " 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  know." 

"I  do,  though,"  said  a  voice  from  across  the 
supper  table.  "  He's  as  proud  of  them  as  ever  he 
was.  Five  years  haven't  changed  him  a  particle. 
He's  just  the  same  incorrigible  young  rascal  he 
was  before  he  went  away  to  sea  !  " 

"  Is  that  true  ?  "  said  the  Girl. 

"  I'm  afraid  it  is,"  he  laughed,  "  I'm  truly 
afraid  it  is  !  Just  ask  the  '  old  man.'  He'll  tell 
you.  But "  -  the  jolly  prodigal  turned  to  the 
Girl  at  his  side.  He  blushed  as  her  eyes  met  his. 
It  was  so  long  since  he  had  talked  to  girls.  He 
felt  like  a  tough,  old  right  whale  addressing  a 
little  pink  water-lily. 

"  But,"  he  made  bold  to  ask,  "  what  are  the 
6  glorious  '  things  you  think  I'm  not  proud  of  ?  " 


L  THE    FATTED    CALF. 

"  Mr.  Bobbins,  if  you  please,  I  prefer  not  to 
tell."  She  tossed  her  pretty  head,  and  the  two 
long,  dark  ringlets,  nestling  against  her  soft 
cheeks,  seemed  to  laugh  and  taunt  him.  They 
were  as  bewitchingly  mischievous  as  her  brown 
eyes,  or  the  dimples  that  came  and  went  with  her 
smiles,  or  even  that  defiant  little  toss  of  her  head. 
The  tiny  gold  beads,  too,  and  the  big  cameo  brooch 
were  leagued  together  against  him.  So  were  her 
smooth,  white  shoulders.  For  in  those  good  old 
days  of  Forty-one,  the  Girl,  whose  picture  (in 
daguerrotype,  of  course)  is  still  considered  the 
supreme  triumph  of  New  Bedford  photography, 
was  in  the  first  bloom  of  her  youth  and  beauty. 

"  Oh,  but  you're  not  going  to  get  off  so  easy !  " 
said  still  another  voice.  "  If  Dorothy  won't  tell, 
we  will.  You're  remembered  for  putting  a  flat 
stone  on  the  top  of  Daddy  Jones's  chimney.  Yes, 
and  for  smoking  old  Daddy  out  of  his  cobbler-shop 
as  if  he'd  been  a  poor  hunted  wood-chuck." 

"And  for  writing  a  Bible  verse  on  Daddy  Jones's 
door,"  cried  a  lad  with  a  rose  in  his  coat,  trying 
to  loom  into  view  from  the  lee  side  of  a  much- 
hewn  turkey.  "  Don't  you  remember  ?  It  was 
when  Daddy  had  got  so  lazy  he  never  opened  his 
shop  till  ten  in  the  morning,  and  the  Prodigal  and  I 
wrote  on  his  door,  "He  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth!" 


THE    FATTED    CALF.  6 

"  Yes,  yes/'  cried  the  blonde  girl  in  lavendar, 
"  for  that,  too,  and  for  kicking  the  football  against 
Squire  Tomlinson's  window  so  he  came  out  as  mad 
as  a  March  hare,  and  seized  the  ball  and  put  it  in 
the  stove.  0,  we  remember  you  well !  The  deeds 
that  New  Bedford  boys  do  live  after  them.  Besides, 
we've  not  forgotten  how  you  got  another  foot-ball 
next  day  and  filled  it  with  gunpowder,  and  then 
kicked  that  against  the  window  till  the  Squire  came 
and  caught  it  and  put  it  in  the  stove  just  like 
the  first  one,  and  then  there  wasn't  any  stove." 

The  Prodigal  turned  again  to  Dorothy.  "  You 
wouldn't  have  told  those  stories,  would  you  ? " 
He  thought  this  tentative  sally  a  triumph  of  pure 
heroism.  He  was  never  so  timid  in  his  life.  He 
had  chased  whales  and  darted  harpoons  into  their 
slippery  black  backs  out  of  the  dancing  prow  of  a 
whale-boat ;  he  had  gone  among  tattooed  natives 
who  might  have  cooked  and  eaten  him  had  they 
chosen  ;  he  had  clambered  down  over  the  ship's 
bows  in  a  storm  to  repair  a  broken  bob-stay,  and 
had  stuck  it  out  bravely  till  the  bob-stay  was 
mended,  though  he  was  plunged  twenty  times 
under  water  before  the  process  was  complete  ;  but 
those  exploits  were  as  nothing  beside  this  highly 
problematic  encounter  with  ringlets,  and  dimples, 
and  soft  eyes,  and  tender  white  shoulders  ! 


THE  FATTED  CALF. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Dorothy  (that  was  before  young 
people  were  taught  never  to  say  '  sir '  to  anybody) 
"  I  assure  you  I  wouldn't  have  told  those  stories ; 
tortures  couldn't  have  drawn  them  from  me  !  " 

The  Prodigal  felt  thirty  feet  tall.  Dorothy's 
smile  made  his  heart  leap.  It  was  like  Words 
worth's  rainbow  in  its  effect. 

"  But,"  said  Dorothy,  growing  stern  all  of  a 
sudden,  "  I  expect  to  be  rewarded  for  my  good 
ness.  I've  got  you  in  my  power  now,  and  you 
must  do  my  bidding  to  the  death  !  "  (She  looked 
straight  through  him  with  her  round  eyes.)  "  And 
I  greatly  fear  you'll  fail  of  your  quest ;  and  if  you 
do  fail,  then  you're  no  true  knight !  "  (Dimpling 
again,  her  pretty  cheeks  coming  up  ever  so  little 
to  make  her  eyes  dance  and  sparkle.)  "Wretched 
swain,"  (very  serious  again,  pausing,  with  tight- 
closed  lips),  "  I  command  you  to  confess  all  your 
manifold  sins  and  wickednesses  —  yes,  every  one 
of  them.  Every  jolly  wrong  thing  you  did  while 
you  served  as  cabin  boy  on  the  dear  old  Swift, 
and  if  the  sins  you  confess  aren't  as  picturesque  as 
those  you  committed  in  New  Bedford  before  you 
turned  whaleman,  then"  (a  majestic  toss  of 
the  head  that  set  the  ringlets  caressing  her 
pink  cheeks  again)  "  I'll  refuse  to  grant  you 
absolution  !  " 


THE    FATTED    CALF.  0 

"  Yes,  old  fellow,  you'll  do  as  Dorothy  says,  if 
you're  wise.  She  has  her  way  sooner  or  later 
every  time  and  there's  no  escape.  We  all  have  to 
submit,  and  you're  no  exception,  even  if  you  are 
a  whaleman  !  " 

Submit  ?  Of  course  he  would  submit.  He 
would  have  pushed  a  holy  stone  up  and  down 
the  deck  from  morn  till  dewy  eve  (and  never 
growled)  if  the  Girl  had  bidden  him.  He  would 
have  tarred  the  rigging  from  the  fore-royal  stay 
to  the  topping-lift  (and  left  no  "  holidays")  if  the 
Girl  had  so  ordered.  He  would  have  slushed  the 
mast  in  the  blaze  of  the  torrid  equatorial  sun  (and 
without  inwardly  cursing  the  lot  of  poor  Jack)  if 
Dorothy's  dimpling  smiles  would  have  approved 
his  toil.  And,  as  the  greater  includes  the  less,  he 
was  ready  to  tell  at  her  behest  how  he  had  consti 
tuted  himself  a  persona  non  grata  aboard  the 
whale-ship  Swift. 

He  was  twenty.  At  fifteen  he  had  signed  sail 
ing  papers  that  bound  him  away  as  a  cabin-boy 
on  a  three  years'  voyage  sperm-whaling,  but  the 
three  years  had  stretched  out  to  four,  and  the 
four  to  nearly  five.  At  last  he  was  home  again, 
after  roving  so  long  among  the  islands  of  the 
South  Pacific.  He  had  just  arrived.  In  fact, 
twenty-four  hours  had  not  yet  gone  by  since  he 


THE  FATTED  CALF. 


THE    FATTED    CALF.  7 

had  rushed  in  upon  his  mother  and  been  formally 
introduced  to  his  own  sisters,  who  had  grown  to 
unrecognizable  dimensions  since  his  departure ; 
and  this  grand  New  England  banquet  was  being 
given  in  his  honor  by  neighbors  just  over  the  way. 
The  sixteen  young  people  around  the  table  were 
his  old  schoolmates.  They  called  him  the  Prodi 
gal  ;  but  well  they  knew  that  the  boy  had  come 
home  unstained  from  his  wanderings.  With  equal 
pertinence,  and  not  less,  they  called  the  turkey  a 
"  fatted  calf." 

He  had  perhaps  an  unusually  pleasant  way  of 
telling  a  story,  this  young  sea-rover  —  a  way  that 
has  remained  with  him  until  this  day.  He  hoists 
his  Blue  Peter,  heaves  up  his  mud-hook,  shakes 
out  his  canvas  and  puts  to  sea.  Nobody  tries  to 
help  him.  He  sails  over  his  course  as  straight  as 
a  well-found  ship,  and  he  comes  into  port  with  a 
new  coat  of  paint,  and  pendant  flying. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Prodigal,  "  if  I  must,  I  must. 
And  I'll  begin  by  telling  you  how  the  old  man  put 
his  watch  in  soak." 

"Stop!"  cried  the  Girl.  "I  object.  This  is 
not  to  be  a  story  about  an  old  gentleman.  What's 
more,  it's  not  to  be  told  in  sailor  language.  It's 
to  be  about  yourself  "  (such  a  sweet  tone  as  she 
said  "  yourself  ")  "  and  it's  to  be  told  in  faultless 


8  THE    FATTED    CALF. 

New  Bedford  English  (eyes  again,  utterly  distract 
ing)  or  I'll  —  !  " 

"  But,"  the  Prodigal  answered,  "  you've  not  yet 
heard  the  story.  Listen.  The  '  old  man '  is  the 
captain  (they  always  call  him  so  on  shipboard) ; 
6  putting  one's  watch  in  soak  '  is  not  a  sea-term  at 
all ;  and  the  story  is  really  about  me,  and  it's  told 
in  the  only  language  I  know,  for  I've  lived  in  the 
cabin  like  a  fine  gentleman.  You  must  remember 
that  the  boy's  not  allowed  to  go  before  the  mast. 

"  So,  here  goes."  He  was  now  under  way.  He 
would  forge  ahead,  all  fluking,  without  further 
interruption. 

"  After  we'd  been  about  six  months  out  from 
home,  we  anchored  at  Porter's,  one  of  the  Galla- 
pagos  Islands,  and  there  we  found  an  old  apple- 
bowed,  square-sterned,  painted-ported  bark,  the 
Surprise,  of  Wilmington,  Cap'n  Crocker.  Next 
morning  the  two  old  men  —  Crocker  and  my  own 
cap'n  —  gave  liberty  on  shore  for  all  hands,  ex 
cept  cooks,  stewards,  and  boys,  to  hunt  terrapin, 
if  you  call  that  liberty.  After  they  had  landed, 
the  old  man  and  Crocker  called  us  boys  and  took 
us  ashore  to  help  them  try  and  catch  a  seal. 
Mighty  glad  we  were  to  go. 

"  We  landed  on  a  little  island,  only  three  miles 
round  and  covered  with  woods.  It  was  high  and 
very  rugged. 


THE  FATTED  CALF. 

"  The  cap'ns  gave  us  youngsters  leave  to  ramble 
about  for  an  hour,  so  we  thought  we'd  cross  the 
island,  get  down  to  the  shore  on  the  other  side, 
and  follow  the  beach  back  to  the  boat.  We  had 
high  hopes  of  finding  a  seal,  for  neither  of  us  had 
ever  seen  one  alive. 

"  It  was  easy  enough  getting  to  the  top  of  the 
island,  but  from  there  on  it  was  all  a  tangle  of 
gullies  and  ravines,  and  when  we  finally  came  to 
the  other  side  we  found  ourselves  looking  down 
from  the  edge  of  a  three-hundred-foot  cliff.  It 
made  us  dizzy,  as  you  may  imagine,  to  peer  over 
it,  but  we  lay  out  flat  on  our  stomachs  and  rested 
our  heads  on  our  hands  and  our  elbows  on  the 
rocks,  and  studied  that  bluff.  It  was  straight 
up  and  down,  like  the  Swift's  checkered  sides. 
There  was  no  beach  at  the  bottom.  There 
was  a  dead  flat  calm,  no  waves  at  all  save  the 
everlasting  heave  and  swell  that  never  ceased  and 
never  will  cease ;  and  yet  the  breakers  were 
white,  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff  and  we  could  hear 
their  roar.  It  was  what  we  sailors  call  an  iron- 
bound  coast. 

"  Our  hearts  went  down  into  the  soles  of  our 
boots.  Climb  down  that  precipice  ?  Crawl  along 
at  the  water's  edge  ?  Not  by  a  jugful ! 


10  THE    FATTED    CALF. 

"  Suddenly  it  occured  to  us  we  must  have  been 
gone  a  pretty  long  hour.  So  we  started  back 
—  disappointed  and  scared  and  ashamed  —  the 
way  we  had  come,  as  well  as  we  could  judge, 
and  we  were  not  far  wrong.  But  everything  was 
against  us.  Thorns  and  brambles  caught  us,  one 
or  both.  Steep  crags  got  in  our  way  on  purpose. 
Gullies  sank  under  our  feet.  So  fully  four  hours 
had  gone  by  when  we  came  in  view  of  the  landing 
place  again.  The  cap'ns  were  hallooing  with  all 
their  might,  but  we  were  too  scared  to  answer 
and  so  kept  still.  That  didn't  pay,  though.  When 
the  old  man  clapped  his  eyes  on  me,  he  hollered 
out  at  the  top  of  his  lungs,  (  Come  here,  you 
rascal.  I'll  learn  you  to  run  away  !  I'll  learn 
you  to  keep  me  waiting !  Come  here  till  I  make 
a  little  spread-eaglet  of  you  !  I'll  learn  you  this 
lesson  so  it'll  stick  in  your  back  as  well  as  your 
head  !  Come  !  Are  you  dead  ?  Show  a  leg  there  !  ' 

"  With  that  the  old  man  grabbed  hold  of  the 
boat's  warp  and  was  going  to  give  me  a  thrashing 
with  the  bitter  end  of  it.  But  the  other  cap'n 
begged  me  off. 

"  '  Well/  said  the  old  man,  '  I'll  put  druggs  on 
the  rascal  so  he  won't  run  out  so  blamed  swift. 
Here's  what  Til  do.  Cap'n  Crocker  can  have  his 
way  about  the  little  spread-eaglet,  but  I'll  have 


THE    FATTED    CALF.  11 

mine  about  that  twenty-pound  stone  over  yonder 
there.  Come,  sonnywax,  bring  me  that  flat  stone 
—  that  big,  round  one,  with  the  barnacles  all 
over  it !  ' 

"  I  went  and  brought  the  stone.  It  was  shaped 
like  Daddy  Jones's  lapstone  and  it  weighed  not  an 
ounce  under  twenty  pounds.  The  old  tyrant  took 
that  stone  and  slung  it  to  my  back  with  a  strong 
cord  slipped  round  in  a  lark's  head  knot. 

" '  Now,'  he  roared,  '  I  guess  you'll  not  get  out 
of  hailing  distance  again  this  cruise  ! ' 

"  Then  we  pushed  the  boat  off  through  the 
rollers  and  made  for  the  large  island.  I  tugged 
at  my  oar  with  the  big  stone  banging  against  my 
shoulder-blades  and  jabbing  the  barnacles  into  my 
back.  I  would  rather  have  taken  the  rope-ending. 

"  I  thought  we'd  never  get  ashore,  but  at  last 
we  did.  We  rushed  the  boat  out  of  the  water  on 
a  fine  sand  beach,  a  mile  or  more  long  and  as 
straight  as  a  street. 

"  The  cap'ns  started  ahead,  keeping  a  bright 
lookout  for  seals,  but  we  boys  lagged  behind, 
and  as  soon  as  we  dared  we  got  a  new  stone,  the 
same  shape  but  only  about  half  as  heavy,  and 
no  barnacles  on  it,  and  we  put  it  in  place  of  the 
twenty-pounder  on  my  back.  I  tell  you,  it  was  a 
relief  ! 


12  THE    FATTED    CALF. 

"  The  cap'ns  had  got  a  long  way  in  the  lead  — 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  at  the  very  least  —  when  sud 
denly  I  heard  a  rifle-shot  and  saw  a  moving  puff 
of  blue  smoke. 

u  The  old  man  had  shot  a  seal,  and  the  wounded 
beast  was  dancing  around  the  beach  like  a  man  in 
a  sack-race,  and  every  jump  he  made  brought  him 
a  little  nearer  the  water. 

"  The  old  man  wanted  me  now  as  he'd  never 
wanted  me  before,  for  I  had  the  powder  and  balls 
in  my  pocket  to  reload  his  rifle.  He  hollered  like 
mad. 

4t (  Hurry  up,  you  scoundrel !  Do  you  hear  ? 
Quick  !  Drop  your  ballast,  I  tell  you  ;  quick,  or 
I'll  thrash  you  !  Quick  I  say  !  Quick  !  QUICK  ! ! 
QUICK  ! !  ! ' 

"  I  ran  as  fast  as  I  could,  but  the  sand  was  soft 
and  the  stone  was  hard  and  I  made  sorry  work 
of  it. 

"  The  old  man  chased  the  seal  into  the  water 
with  a  club,  but  as  soon  as  the  animal  got  afloat 
in  the  surf  he  was  the  better  off  for  the  change. 
He  dashed  away  for  life  and  liberty  —  the  old 
man  after  him,  dealing  murderous  blows  with  the 
cudgel.  As  I  came  up,  puffing  and  blowing  like  a 
winded  walrus,  the  old  man  was  in  up  to  his  ears 
in  salt  water  and  the  seal  was  bleeding  from  a 


THE    FATTED    CALF.  13 

dozen  gashes  at  once.  Another  swing  of  the  club 
put  him  out  of  his  misery. 

"  The  old  man  came  splashing  and  sputtering 
out  of  the  surf,  dragging  his  lifeless  prey  after 
him. 

"  '  Blast  the  boy,'  he  yelled,  '  I've  got  a  pretty 
drenching.' 

"  Cap'n  Crocker  roared  with  laughter.  '  Better 
have  left  the  boy  free  to  run,  sir  !  ' 

"  The  old  man  shook  himself  like  a  wet  dog. 

"  '  Cap'n,'  cried  Crocker,  rolling  from  side  to 
side  with  amusement,  '  can  you  tell  me  the  time 
o'  day  ?  ' 

"  The  old  man  felt  for  his  watch,  only  to  dis 
cover  that  he  had  ruined  it  in  the  surf ! 

"  Crocker  stamped  about  the  beach,  bellowing 
like  a  facetious  big  bull.  '  0-ho-ho  !  '  he  howled, 
I've  seen  many  a  beautiful  timepiece  go  in  soak 
in  my  day,  but  never  before  on  account  of  a 
rascally  cabin  boy  with  a  stone  on  his  back !  ' 

"  So  that's  how  the  old  man  put  his  watch  in 
soak,  your  majesty.  Please,  may  I  stop  now  ?  " 

He  looked  into  Dorothy's  eyes  as  he  spoke. 
They  looked  into  his.  There  was  nothing  re 
markable  in  that,  but  nevertheless  he  felt  as  if  he 
had  taken  something  that  didn't  belong  to  him. 
However,  he  had  no  desire  to  put  it  back. 


14  THE    FATTED    CALF. 

"  Absolvo  te  !  "  said  the  Girl.  "  Isn't  that  what 
they  say  at  confessional !  "  A  burst  of  generous 
laughter  shook  the  table. 

"What  did  we  tell  you?"  said  he  of  the  red 
rose.  "  Just  the  same  rogue  as  before  he  turned 
blubber-hunter.  Daddy  Jones  was  right.  You 
remember  he  said,  '  Glad  he's  gone — pesky  glad, 
but  I  pity  that  there  cap'n  o'  his'n !  ' 

Turkey,  doughnuts,  mince-pie,  and  sweet  cider 
had  found  their  way  to  destruction.  The  merry 
party  left  the  table  and  trooped  into  the  large, 
old-fashioned  parlor,  where  the  fun  began  afresh. 
There  was  dancing,  in  the  quaint  manner  now 
gone  by ;  there  were  games,  of  the  hilarious 
sort  no  longer  in  vogue;  there  were  songs 
—  forgotten,  most  of  them,  long  ere  this.  The 
Prodigal  thought  it  a  sumptuous  occasion.  For 
five  years  he  had  not  sat  in  a  cushioned  chair 
or  stepped  upon  a  carpeted  floor.  To  his  sailorly 
eyes  that  staid  and  demure  parlor,  with  its  tall 
looking-glasses,  its  marbled  wall-paper,  and  its 
solemn,  mahogany  furniture,  was  princely  mag 
nificence.  To  all  intents  it  far  outshone  the 
wealth  of  Ormus  and  of  Ind. 

But  the  Girl  was  there  —  not  always  at  his  side, 
but  always  responsive.  Even  if  she  sat,  for  the 
moment,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  under 


THE    FATTED    CALF.  15 

the  silver  candalabra,  she  made  him  feel  that  her 
interest  was  in  him.  Was  it  her  eyes  ?  Perhaps 
—  for  they  were  always  brightest  as  they  met  his. 
Or  was  it  her  pretty  posture  ?  Very  likely  -  -  for 
it  was  always  one  of  eager  attention  when  he 
spoke.  He  thought  for  a  moment  that  he  was 
being  mischievously  pursued.  Then  he  thought 
it  rather  nice  to  be  pursued.  Finally  he  thought 
the  Girl  was  not  at  all  to  blame  for  pursuing  so 
interesting  a  person  as  the  returned  Prodigal  from 
the  South  Pacific.  Besides,  had  not  he  done  all 
he  knew  how,  in  his  sailorly  way,  to  interest  the 
Girl? 

"  You  didn't  do  as  you  promised,"  she  said, 
when  they  chanced  to  come  side  by  side  again. 
"  You  promised  to  confess  all  your  sins,  and  you 
stopped  with  one  —  though  it  was  a  very  good 
one.  And  now,  sir,  if  you  don't  confess  another 
this  very  minute  if  not  sooner,  I'll  excommuni 
cate  you  !  " 

"  How's  that  done  ?  " 

"  You'll  find  out  to  your  grief,"  said  the  red 
rose,  "if  you  don't  tell  another  story  as  good  as 
the  last,  and  that  immediately.'' 

"  Yes,  yes,"  they  all  cried,  "  confess  your  sins 
or  we'll  excommunicate  you,  too,  and  it'll  be 
something  awful  —  awful!  " 


16  THE    FATTED    CALF. 

They  drew  their  chairs  close  around  the  Prodi 
gal.  There  was  no  way  of  escape.  He  was 
secretly  glad  there  was  none. 

Doubtless  it  was  not  wholly  by  accident  that 
Dorothy  sat  directly  in  front  of  him.  Her  seat 
was  a  sort  of  low  hassock.  She  curled  herself 
round  it  prettily,  one  knee  raised,  one  little  slipper 
peeping  out  from  the  edge  of  her  yellow  satin 
gown,  her  hands  clasped  over  her  knee,  and  her 
sweet  face  lifted  up  toward  his.  A  girl  is  her 
loveliest  when  she  looks  up.  Probably  that  is 
why  Dorothy  had  chosen  the  hassock. 

"  Well,  if  I  must,  I  must.  This  time  I'll  tell 
you  about  the  Ten  Commandments. 

"  One  Sunday,  not  so  very  long  after  the  old 
man  "had  put  his  watch  in  soak,  I  happened  to  be 
feeling  a  bit  out  of  sorts.  I  knew  that  if  I  told 
the  old  man  I  was  sick  he'd  dose  me  with  castor 
oil  every  hour  for  a  week.  So  I  cast  about  for  a 
nice,  quiet  place  to  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep.  I 
found  just  what  I  wanted  and,  willingly  running 
the  risk  of  punishment,  I  curled  myself  up  in  the 
second  mate's  bunk  and  sailed  for  the  land  of  Nod. 

"  Now  it  was  my  duty  to  take  the  hog-yoke  on 
deck  at  eleven  o'clock."  (Dorothy's  eyes  said, 
"What,  sir,  do  you  mean  by  a  hog-yoke?") 
"  That's  the  quadrant,  you  know,  for  the  old  man 


THE    FATTED    CALF.  17 

to  shoot  the  sun"  (a  frown  of  perplexity  on 
Dorothy's  white  forehead)  —  "  I  mean,  for  the  old 
man  to  take  the  sun's  altitude  and  see  what 
latitude  we  were  in.  That's  the  only  safe  way  to 
steer  a  ship,  you  know. 

"But  that  day  the  quadrant  didn't  come  on 
deck  in  time.  In  fact,  it  didn't  come  at  all. 

"  The  old  man  was  frantic.  He  set  all  hands 
searching  for  me.  They  hunted  in  the  cabin, 
they  hunted  in  the  fo'c'sle  —  that's  where  the 
sailors  live,  you  know  ;  you  call  it  '  forecastle,' 
and  that's  wrong  —  and  they  hunted  in  the  steer 
age  ;  but  nobody  could  find  me. 

"  Then  the  old  man  got  anxious.  He  hailed 
the  men  at  the  mast-heads  —  wanted  to  know  if 
they'd  seen  anything  floating  on  the  water  astern 
of  the  ship,  which  meant,  of  course,  had  the  cabin 
boy  gone  overboard  ?  At  last  the  old  man  got  so 
worried  he  wasn't  content  with  ordering  other 
folks  to  hunt,  but  even  turned  to  and  hunted 
for  me  himself. 

"Now  all  this  while  I  was  dreaming  of  an 
enchanted  island,  loaded  with  treasures,  and  I  was 
just  going  to  be  married  to  the  queen  of  the 
island,  when  there  came  a  tremendous  yank  at  my 
collar,  and  the  old  man  landed  me  on  the  floor 
with  a  shock  that  all  but  shivered  my  timbers  and 


18  THE    FATTED    CALF. 

studded  the  ceiling  with  all  the  blazing  stars  in 
creation. 

"  The  old  man  kicked  me  up  the  cabin  stairway 
and  gave  me  half  an  hour  to  think.  Meanwhile, 
he  was  thinking,  I  knew  that.  He  was  inventing 
some  wonderful  new  kind  of  punishment,  and  he 
was  going  to  try  it  on  me  as  soon  as  he'd  got  it 
all  invented. 

"  At  last  he  came  on  deck.  '  Boy,'  he  shouted, 
6  can  you  say  the  Ten  Commandments  ?  ' 

"  '  No,  sir,'  I  answered.  '  I  used  to  when  I  was 
in  Sunday  school,  but  I  can't  now,  sir.' 

"  '  Then  you  just  tumble  down  the  cabin  stairs 
and  bring  the  Bible  on  deck.' 

"  I  did  as  the  old  man  said,  and  then  he  gave 
me  the  funniest  order  you  ever  heard  on  a  ship. 
6  Go  out  on  the  end  o'  that  spanker-boom,  take 
that  Bible  along  with  you,  and  don't  you  dare  to 
come  back  till  you  can  say  the  Ten  Command 
ments  from  beginning  to  end  without  a  single 
mistake,  or  I'll  make  a  little  spread  eaglet  of  you ! 
That's  what  I'll  do !  ' 

"  What  ?  Don't  know  what  the  spanker-boom 
is  ?  Why,  it's  the  big  round  spar  that  keeps  the 
spanker  down,  and  the  spanker,  you  know,  is  the 
monstrous  hind  sail  of  the  ship.  What  a  place  to 
learn  the  Ten  Commandments  by  heart!  That 


THE    FATTED    CALF.  19 

spanker-boom  is  the  unsteadiest  piece  of  stick 
aboard  any  vessel,  and  the  further  out  you  'go  the 
livelier  it  swings. 

"  Well,  I  tucked  the  book  under  my  left  arm, 
and  crawled  along  that  swinging  boom,  way  out 
over  the  hurricane  house  and  far  beyond  the 
ship's  stern.  When  I  got  to  the  end  of  it,  I 
leaned  my  breast  against  the  topping-lift,  with  one 
arm  curled  round  it,  and  laced  my  legs  together 
under  the  boom. 

"  Then  I  began  a  hunt  for  the  Ten  Command 
ments.  I  hadn't  the  faintest  notion  where  to  look 
for  them.  First  I  thought  I'd  try  Revelation. 
Next  it  seemed  more  likely  they'd  turn  up  some 
where  in  Ruth.  Again,  I  had  an  impulse  that 
led  me  toward  Jonah.  Jonah  is  a  very  popular 
book  among  sailors.  It's  almost  as  good  as  the 
story  of  Paul's  shipwreck,  where  they  put  haw 
sers  round  and  round  the  ship,  just  as  if  they 
were  strapping  a  trunk. 

"  But  at  last  I  concluded  to  begin  at  the  first 
chapter  of  Genesis,  and  eat  along  to  windward  till 
I  raised  the  Ten  Commandments.  Happy  thought ! 
I  found  them  in  fifteen  minutes.  Then  I  set 
about  learning  them. 

"  The  boom  swung  in  the  wind,  the  topping- 
lift  quivered  from  the  strain  on  it,  the  white  wake 


20  THE    FATTED    CALF. 

ran  bubbling  under  me,  and  the  wind  blew  the 
pages  of  the  Bible  so  I  thought  it  would  tear  them 
out  and  whisk  them  away.  Now  and  then  I  would 
look  up.  Every  man  on  deck  was  staring  aft  and 
wondered  what  in  the  name  of  hemp  and  oakum 
the  old  man  had  sent  the  boy  out  there  for ! 

"  As  soon  as  I  got  the  Commandments  so  I 
could  say  them,  I  crawled  back  on  deck  and  said 
my  piece  to  the  old  man  —  every  word  right. 
The  old  man  told  me  'not  to  forget  'em,  for  if  I 
did  he'd  learn  'em  into  my  back  with  a  rope's  end 
so  they'd  never  come  out.' 

"  Several  Sundays  later,  instead  of  giving  the 
crew  a  day  of  comparative  rest,  the  old  man 
found  them  some  extra  work  to  do.  He  con 
formed  to  the  spirit  of  the  old  rhyme, 

'"  Six  days  shalt  thou  work  and  do  all  thou  art  able, 

And  on  the  seventh,  holy-stone  the  deck  and  clean-scrape 
the  cable.' 

But  the  particular  application  he  gave  it  was,  — 
having  an  old  torn  sail  got  on  deck  and  mended. 
The  crew  were  growling  as  they  went  about  their 
task.  They  were  as  sullen  as  a  crowd  of  school 
boys  kept  in  at  recess. 

"  I  thought  I'd  see  if  I  could  change  that  a 
little.  So  when  the  old  man  came  on  deck,  I 


THE    FATTED    CALF.  21 

strolled  past  him,  muttering  just  loud  enough  for 
him  to  hear  :  '  Remember-the-Sabbath-day-to 
keep-it-holy-six-days-shalt-thou-labor-  and  -  do 
all— thy— work— but  -  the  —  seventh— day— is— the— Sab- 
bath-of-the-Lord-thy-God-in-i t-thou-shalt  -  not 
do-any-work-thou-nor-thy-mate  -  nor  -  thy-sec- 
ond  —  mate  —  nor  —  thy  —  third—  mate— nor— thy— crew 
nor— thy-cook— nor— thy— carpenter— nor— thy-cooper 
nor— thy— cabin-boy.' 

"  The  old  man  pretended  he  didn't  hear  me,  but 
after  awhile  he  went  below  and  I  heard  his  bell  ring. 

"  So  down  I  tumbled,  and  as  soon  as  the  old 
man  got  his  face  straight  he  said,  i  Boy,  what  day 
is  this  ? ' 

"  ;  Sunday,  sir.' 

"  '  That  so  ?  Then  you  go  straight  to  the  chief 
mate  and  tell  him  I  say  knock  off  work  on  that 
sail  and  quit  breaking  the  Sabbath  day ! ' 

"  After  that  we  used  to  get  a  little  rest  of  a 
Sunday ;  and  that's  the  sum  and  substance  of  the 
Ten  Commandment  story.  Please  may  I  stop  ?  " 

"  Absolvo  te  !  "  laughed  the  Girl.  Then  the 
Prodigal  suggested  a  fresh  game,  and  the  scene 
shifted  anew.  Instead  of  a  group  around  the 
Prodigal,  you  had  a  group  around  Dorothy. 

Now  I  had  all  along  been  thinking — what !  If 
Ah,  I've  let  Pussy  pop  out  of  my  bag  of  discretion! 


22  THE    FATTED    CALF. 

Yes,  I.  A  truce  to  disguises  !  The  Prodigal 
was  myself,  or  the  self  that  was  then  —  Charlie 
Robbins,  as  they  all  called  me  —  Capn'n  Bobbins, 
as  they  call  me  today. 

To  resume  (and  with  an  easier  conscience)  T, 
Charlie  Robbins,  cabin-boy,  was  thinking  that 
Dorothy  was  the  sweetest  girl  in  the  world,  that 
I  had  made  a  profound  impression  upon  her,  and 
that  my  life  would  be  an  arid  waste  if  I  let  her 
escape  me.  She  was  so  distractingly  pretty,  and 
so  dangerously  clever.  I  remembered  that  when 
I  bade  her  good-bye  five  years  ago  she  was  a  year 
younger  than  I.  Gratifying  reflection  —  she  must 
be  so,  still ! 

I  was  building  air-castles. 

I  knew  I  must  move  rapidly.  Girls  are  so  dif 
ferent  from  whales  —  at  least  to  whalemen.  For 
you  get  fast  to  a  whale  and  if  he  runs,  you  run  ; 
or  if  he  goes  down,  you  wait  till  he  comes  up 
again.  Barring  accidents,  it's  only  a  matter  of 
time  till  you  kill  him  or  he  kills  you.  But  with 
girls  its  more  complicated.  Sometimes  you're  not 
fast  to  them  when  you  think  you  are.  Sometimes 
they  go  down  and  never  come  up  again.  And 
when  you're  a  whaleman  you've  little  time  for 
courting..  The  stay  in  a  home  port  is  shockingly 
short.  That  ship  in  the  harbor  won't  lay  her 


THE  FATTED  CALF. 

main  yard  aback  and  wait  till  the  chase  is  ended. 
You  must  be  quick. 

I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  improve  the 
first  and  all  subsequent  opportunities  of  charming, 
captivating  and  otherwise  hypnotizing  this  unex 
ampled  young  lady.  Whatever  form  later  chances 
might  assume,  the  near  and  most  available  one 
was  my  fund  of  sea-yarns.  1  was  a  sort  of  blubber- 
hunting  Othello.  She  was  my  incomparable 
Desdemona. 

So  I  lowered  away,  every  chance  I  got. 

Her  taste,  I  thought,  was  peculiar.  She  cared 
little  or  nothing  for  whales  that  tossed  one's  boat 
in  the  air  with  their  flukes,  or  for  the  cannibal 
islanders  that  cook  one  and  eat  one,  or  for  hurri 
canes  and  tidal  waves  and  waterspouts  and  the 
terrors  of  "the  vasty  deep."  She  demanded 
yarns  about  me  (how  gratifying ! )  and  about  my 
"  sins."  Every  time,  she  would  look  as  grave  as 
His  Holiness  of  Rome  and  say,  "  Absolvo  te ! " 
and  then  laugh --so  prettily  that  I  inwardly 
cursed  myself  for  ever  having  adopted  the  whale 
man's  lot  —  and  then  say,  "  Go  on,  Mr.  Eobbins  ! 
I  must  have  the  next  story  now  —  and  as  good 
as  the  last,  or  I'll  excommunicate  you  !  " 

They  were  a  curious  skein  of  yarns.  How  I 
was  sent  to  get  the  grindstone  from  the  locker 


24  THE    FATTED    CALF. 

under  the  cabin-stairs,  drew  out  a  bag  of  letters, 
and  in  so  doing  knocked  the  grindstone  against  a 
demijohn  of  turpentine,  which  toppled  over  help 
lessly,  a  reeking,  jingling  wreck,  with  the  conse 
quence  that  thereafter  the  old  man  made  me  keep 
a  Domesday  Book,  to  record  everything  I  managed 
to  lose  or  break  on  board  the  ship  ;  how  I  came  to 
be  held  to  blame  whenever  a  tool  was  mislaid, 
with  the  penalty  of  having  to  write  it  in  the  Book 
of  Judgment,  so  that  by-and-by  when  I  found  a 
lost  article  I  secretly  pitched  it  overboard  rather 
than  be  blamed  for  finding  it ;  how,  one  Sunday 
morning,  the  old  man  took  an  observation  of  the 
sun  and  gave  the  data  to  me  to  work  out  the 
reckoning,  but  was  not  pleased  with  iny  answer, 
and  accordingly  grabbed  me  by  the  hair  and  lifted 
me  clean  off  the  deck,  so  that  I  took  care  to  get 
my  hair  cut  immediately  ;  and  when  the  old  man 
made  another  observation  that  afternoon  and  gave 
it  to  me  in  the  same  way  and  with  the  same 
result,  he  grabbed  for  my  hair  again  and,  missing 
that,  lifted  me  off  the  deck  by  my  ears,  saying 
he'd  "  stretch  'em  out  as  long  as  a  jackass !  " 
and  this  despite  the  fact  that  I  was  right  and  he 
was  wrong,  for  we  were  cruising  down  the  line 
and  during  the  night  we  had  crossed  the  Equator, 
so  that  we  had  to  apply  our  corrections  differ- 


THE    FATTED    CALF.  25 

ently  ;  and  also  how  I  stole  the  cabin  molasses 
keg  while  we  were  at  Talcuhano,  and  sold  the 
molasses  in  &pulparee  on  shore,  upon  agreement 
that  the  empty  keg  must  be  brought  aboard  next 
evening.  But  the  ship  sailed  in  the  morning  and 
both  keg  and  molasses  were  left  behind.  Think 
of  the  fix  that  put  me  in !  Presently  the  steward 
wanted  some  molasses  for  the  "  doctor  "  to  cook 
with,  —  but  where  in  the  name  of  the  Great 
Horned  Spoon  was  that  precious  molasses  keg  ? 
Of  course  I  knew  nothing  about  it -- absolutely 
nothing  —  vastly  less  than  nothing  !  The  men 
searched  everywhere,  and  the  further  they  searched 
the  madder  they  got.  They  swore  like  great 
whales.  But  that  was  not  the  worst  of  it.  My  con 
science  swore,  too.  The  thought  of  lying  galled 
me  and  cut  me,  till  at  last  I  went  to  the  old  man 
and  confessed  my  crime.  That  made  me  feel  a 
whole  lot  better,  but  it  made  the  old  man  feel  a 
whole  lot  worse  !  "  Blast  you,  boy,  I'll  get  even 
with  you!  You  just  waltz  forward  and  tell  the 
cooper  I  say  to  give  you  a  dozen  barrel-staves. 
I'm  going  to  learn  you  a  lesson  that'll  last  you 
way  over  into  the  next  world  !  "  When  I  came 
back  with  the  barrel-staves,  the  old  man  stationed 
me  in  the  waist,  where  everybody  on  board  could 
watch  me,  and  said,  u  Now,  sonny  wax,  you  take 


26  THE    FATTED    CALF. 

this  saw  and  this  plane  the  carpenter's  brought 
you,  and  you  make  a  new  keg  to  take  the  place  of 
the  one  you've  stolen.  Here's  a  chance  to  show 
your  talent.  The  crew' 11  come  around  you  and 
give  you  advice  once  in  a  while  and  encourage 
you,  and  when  the  pretty  creature's  all  done 
they'll  hold  up  their  hands  and  admire  it !  "  I 
worked  four  days.  At  the  end  of  that  time  I  had 
something  in  the  shape  of  a  keg,  but  it  wouldn't 
hold  water  or  molasses  any  more  than  the  "  doc 
tor's  "  cullender.  When  these  four  days  of  atone 
ment  were  over,  the  captain  told  me  to  quit. 
I  quitted. 

How  swiftly  that  pleasant  evening  ran  by ! 
The  merry  party  broke  up  all  too  soon,  I  thought. 
And  yet  not  too  soon.  For  one  reason,  at  least,  I 
was  glad  it  was  over.  Now  I  should  see  Dorothy 
home. 

It  was  in  the  doorway,  after  the  general  and 
particular  good-nights,  that  I  asked  her  if  I  might. 

Oh,  tragical  deception  !  The  Girl  gave  me  one 
defiant  flash  from  her  brown  eyes,  and  ran  like 
a  deer ! 

That  was  the  last  I  saw  of  her. 

I  went  home  alone. 

Six  weeks  later  I  sailed  away  in  the  Balaena, 
sperm-whaling  again. 


THAT  GREAT  LEVIATHAN. 

THE  case  of  Dorothy  being  now  got  well  out 
of  the  way,  I  turn,  and  not  without  a  grateful 
sense  of  relief,  to  weightier  considerations. 

For  this  gam  of  mine  —  you  know  the  term  ? 
- — is  meant  to  set  forth  the  grave  as  well  as 
the  trivial  interests  of  that  young  madcap  who 
was  so  early,  and  withal  so  auspiciously,  put  afloat 
in  the  whaling  ship  Swift.  It  would,  in  truth, 
be  far  from  fair  to  leave  the  reader  in  possession 
of  the  startling  revelations  of  the  last  chapter, 
unless,  over  against  those  light  and  altogether 
frivolous  narratives,  be  set  some  mention  of  the 
serious  business  of  whaling,  -r-  its  toil,  its  peril, 
its  joy  and  thrill,  to  say  nothing  of  its  magical 
fascination  for  a  boy  of  fifteen. 

Pleasantly  my  memory  runs  back  sixty  years  to 
the  day  of  our  departure.  Stars  and  stripes  at  the 
peak,  Blue  Peter  at  the  fore  ;  officers  and  crew 
on  board  ;  four  boats  on  the  cranes  ;  and  the  hold 
filled  with  white  oak  casks  and  a  stock  of  pro 
visions  to  last  three  years  and  more;  then,  as 
somebody  or  other  says,  "  Waiting  is  what  ?  " 

Waiting  is  the  pilot.  But,  once  aboard,  his 
majesty  takes  command,  and  the  voyage  is  begun. 


28  THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN. 

The  captain,  while  the  pilot  remains  in  the  ship, 
is  a  mere  inactive  looker-on,  a  person  of  no  more 
consequence  than  a  passenger  or  a  spare  figure 
head. 

"  Mr.  Mate,  are  you  all  ready  ?  " 

"  All  ready,  sir  ?  " 

"  Then  heave  ahead  !  " 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir.     Man  the  windlass!  " 

Now  comes  the  confusion,  the  hurrying  and 
blundering,  invariably  seen  on  board  a  ship  when 
she  is  getting  under  way  with  a  crew  made  up 
largely  of  green  hands ;  then  an  attempt  on  the 
part  of  the  officers  to  bring  something  like  order 
out  of  this  hurly-burly ;  and  while  at  every  turn 
of  the  powerful  windlass  the  chain  cable  rattles 
heavily  on  deck,  the  Swift  walks  steadily  up  to 
her  anchor  as  if  impatient  for  the  word  to  spread 
her  white  wings  and  be  away. 

"  A-vast  heaving,"  shouts  the  first  officer.  "  A 
short  stay  peak,  sir !  " 

"Aye,  aye,"  responds  the  pilot. 

"  Let  fall  and  sheet  home  top-s'ls  and  to'- 
gal'n-s'ls  !  " 

Away  sprang  half  a  dozen  men  aloft,  and  soon 
the  broad  sheets  of  canvas  are  unfurled  and  hauled 
home  and  the  yards  are  mast-headed. 

Next  a  volley  of  incomprehensible  orders : 


THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN.  29 

"  Brace  head  yards  a-starboard  !  " 

"  Lay  helm  aport !  " 

"  Heave  up  the  anchor  !  " 

The  first  mate  answers,  "  All  away,  sir  !  "  and 
you  know  then  that  the  good  ship  has  loosed  her 
hold  on  terra  firma,  and  you  watch  her  move 
ments,  as  —  gracefully  as  a  girl  in  a  minuet  —  she 
turns  her  head  seaward. 

The  pilot  springs  to  the  bow,  now  and  again 
shouting  his  orders  to  the  helmsmen,  who  invari 
ably  echoes  the  words,  that  there  may  be  no 
possibility  of  mistake. 

And  so,  with  a  breeze  fresh  and  free,  we  sped 
down  the  bay,  borrowing  a  little,  now  on  one 
shore,  then  on  the  other,  or  shaving  close  to  some 
rocky  ledge,  as  our  sharp-eyed,  skillful  guide 
might  direct,  in  order  to  shorten  our  course  from 
the  confines  of  harbor  to  the  freedom  of  the 
open  sea. 

A  little  farther,  and  we  open  up  Gay  Head 
lighthouse  on  the  western  end  of  Martha's  Vine 
yard,  so  called  from  the  abundance  of  wild  grape 
vines  growing  there.  Once  outside,  the  tiny  pilot- 
boat,  which  has  been  dodging  about  the  heavy 
ship  like  a  will-o'-the-wisp,  shoots  alongside^  and 
his  lordship  the  pilot  and  our  friends,  mostly 
men  of  the  sea,  hasten  to  make  their  adieus,  and 


30  THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN. 

descend  to  the  restless  little  craft  that  will  soon 
take  them  back  to  their  homes.  The  lingering 
grasp  of  hands,  the  ill-concealed  tremor  of  fare 
wells,  and  the  moistened,  glistening  eye,  tell  of 
the  friendship  of  men  who  have  together  battled 
with  the  giant  seas  and  fierce  winds  of  the  Horn, 
who  have  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  when  short 
ening  the  wings  of  their  hurrying  ship  in  the 
short-lived  gales  of  the  Equator,  and  who  have 
for  long  years  shared  alike  in  common  hardships, 
joys  and  sorrows. 

The  little  fairy  shoots  ahead,  and,  flying  up  into 
the  wind,  is  soon  on  our  weather  beam,  homeward 
bound.  Three  rousing  cheers  from  her  deck,  and 
three  from  the  outward  bound,  and  we  are  alone 
on  the  sea,  with  nothing  binding  us  to  the  shore 
but  memories  of  the  past  and  hopes  for  the  future ! 

And  now,  indeed,  though  with  everything  yet 
to  learn,  I  was  fairly  made  a  sailor  of.  There 
was  no  possible  back-wending,  however  I  might 
thereafterward  mope  and  whimper.  Accordingly 
I  turned  my  heart  manfully  toward  my  strange, 
new  life  and  faced  it  with  earnest  cheer. 

The  first  day  out,  the  ship's  crew  is  divided  into 
two  watches,  larboard  and  starboard,  the  former 
always  headed  by  the  first  officer  and  the  latter  by 
the  second.  The  men  are  mustered  aft  and  the 


THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN.  31 

rules  of  the  ship  laid  down  to  them.  At  seven 
that  evening,  the  watch  is  set,  the  second  officer 
always  taking  the  first  night  watch  from  the  home 
port,  and  those  not  on  duty  go  below  and  sleep  - 
if  they  can.  Next  morning  all  hands  are  called 
aft  again,  this  time  for  choosing  boat's  crews. 
The  first  officer  takes  precedence  by  selecting 
one  man,  followed  in  turn  by  the  second,  third, 
and  fourth  mates,  each  choosing  one,  until  every 
boat  has  a  crew  standing  by  her  side.  Then 
follows,  usually,  the  emphatic  caution,  "  Now 
remember  to  which  you  belong,  and  bear  a  hand 
when  she's  called  away!" 

And  what  of  the  voyage  ?  Southward  ?  Yes, 
in  the  main  ;  crossing  the  Gulf  Stream ;  battling, 
stripped  for  the  fight,  with  many  a  heavy  gale  ; 
passing,  with  men  all  the  while  at  our  mast-heads, 
through  the  "  horse  latitudes  ;  "  lowering  our 
boats,  now  and  then,  to  give  our  whalemen 
practice  in  rowing ;  and  taking  advantage,  now, 
of  every  slant  of  wind  to  press  on  our  way  toward 
the  stormy  Horn. 

Days  and  long  weeks  go  by,  nor  are  we  alone 
in  the  tedious  struggle.  Several  sails  are  in  sight, 
all  striving  to  get  south. 

And  so,  with  bracing  round,  or  squaring  the 
yards,  making  and  shortening  sail,  and  backing 


32  THAT    GEEAT    LEVIATHAN. 

and  filling  generally,  we  get  a  sharp  squall,  with 
rain,  from  the  eastward,  and  then  the  old  salts 
cast  at  each  other  significant  glances,  which,  if 
rightly  interpreted,  would  say,  "  I  believe  we've 
got  the  Trades  at  last !  "  After  a  few  hours,  the 
wind  moderates  and  hauls  to  the  northward.  All 
sail  is  set  again,  with  the  breeze  fresh  and  free,, 
and  we  go  bowling  along  to  the  southward  at  the 
rate  of  ten  knots  an  hour. 

Oh,  the  beautiful  world  of  waters !  Almost 
every  day  we  pass  ships  showing  the  flags  of 
different  nations,  some  near  and  others  in  the  far 
distance,  all  under  a  press  of  canvas,  and  all  seem 
ing  to  revel  in  the  bright  sunshine  and  the  breeze. 
The  water,  too  —  so  warm  and  so  transparent  — 
is  full  of  life.  Porpoises,  dolphins,  albicore,  and 
barricota  are  gambolling  and  sporting  in  the  sum 
mer  sea.  Thousands  of  birds  are  on  the  wing  or 
resting  on  the  waves,  while  not  infrequently  a 
huge  fin-back,  or  sulphur  whale  rolls  lazily  along, 
now  throwing  clouds  of  misty  spray  into  the  air, 
and  again  lashing  the  water  into  foam  with  its 
broad  flukes,  doubtless  to  rid  himself  of  the 
numerous  parasites  which  persistently  strive  to 
fasten  themselves  upon  these  worthless  vagabonds. 
Vitality  and  loveliness  are  above,  beneath  and 
around  us,  and  we  seem  verily  to  be  sailing  on  a 


THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN.  33 

sea  of  enchantment.  The  stars  seem  nearer,  and 
shine  and  twinkle  with  that  wonderful  bright 
ness  seen  only  in  that  southern  hemisphere.  The 
North  star  has  dipped  into  the  ocean,  not  to  rise 
again  until  we  cross  the  Equator  on  the  Pacific 
ocean.  Instead  we  gaze  in  novel  delight  upon 
the  Southern  Cross,  and  we  are  constantly  looking 
for  that  mysterious  and  ghostlike  thing  known  to 
seamen  as  the  Magellan  cloud,  and  said  to  mark 
the  entrance  to  the  famous  straits  of  that  name. 
Tt  is  enough  to  make  a  man  quote  the  spirited 
lines  of  Kipling  : 

"  O,  the  blazing  tropic  night  when  the  wake's  a  welt  of  light 

That  holds  the  hot  sky  tame, 

And  the  steady  forefoot  snores  through  the  planet-powdered  floors, 
Where  the  scared  whale  flukes  in  flame!  " 

Round  the  horn  we  fly,  wrestling  with  giant 
seas,  and  then,  while  penguins  and  fur-seals  go 
sporting  and  barking  around  the  Swift,  we  pass 
the  rugged,  half-glaciered  island  of  Terra  del 
Fuego.  Warmer,  day  by  day,  grows  the  air  and 
softer.  At  last,  though  never  a  spouter  have  we 
yet  raised  out  of  the  ocean,  our  hog-yoke  tells  us 
we  are  upon  the  rich  off-shore  whaling  grounds. 

After  we  had  been  out  from  home  eight  long 
months  we  chanced  to  speak  the  full-rig  ship 


34  THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN. 

William  Rotch,  and  I  then  beheld  a  sight  that 
stirred  my  soul  from  truck  to  keelson  and  knocked 
my  youthful  emotions  galley-end  wise.  For  the 
Hotchlmd  a  monstrous  whale,  just  taken,  tethered 
alongside. 

There  he  lay,  a  bit  ingloriously,  to  be  sure,  for 
he  was  riding  belly  uppermost  and  tail  foremost ; 
but  I  felt  like  a  Titan  when  I  looked  at  him. 
That  was  the  prey  I  had  gone  a-seeking.  I  was  a 
fighter  of  dragons  and  worse.  Oh,  what  more 
heroic  opportunity  is  offered  to  man  or  boy  than 
to  join  battle  with  such  a  monster  as  that?  So 
thought  I  (turning  sea-green  the  while  with  envy 
of  yonder  lucky  crew)  and  longed,  with  inexpres 
sible  heart-hunger,  for  our  own  first  whale-fight. 
Moreover,  I  wished  myself  at  that  moment  a 
blood-thirsty  pirate ;  for,  ethical  considerations 
aside,  it  would  have  been  a  gratifying  relief  to 
my  feelings  had  we  boarded  that  ship,  like 
"  gentlemen  of  fortune,"  bowie-knifed  her  gallant 
crew,  and  stolen  that  whale  away. 

We  kept  company  with  the  Rotch  all  night,  and 
we  "gammed"  —that  is  to  say,  we  exchanged 
visits  back  and  forth,  and  enjoyed  a  general 
fo'c'sle  pow-wow  for'ard  while  the  officers  made 
merry  in  the  cabins ;  and  particularly  merry  they 
were  that  evening,  too,  for  the  old  man's  brother 


THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN.  35 

was  mate  of  the  William  Rotch,  and  the  two  had 
not  come  face  to  face  for  many  an  eventful  year. 

But  who  knoweth  what  a  day  may  bring  forth  ? 

The  sun  came  red  and  fierce  and  savage  out  of 
the  water.  The  morning  mist  lifted  lazily  off  the 
ocean.  The  long-expected  happened. 

Try  how  I  will,  I  cannot  recall  in  any  former  or 
any  subsequent  experience,  whether  upon  land  or 
sea,  such  a  panic  and  stampede  of  emotions  as  in 
stantly  followed  a  ringing  cry  from  the  mast-head. 

"  There  she  blows  !  "     I  heard  a  man  shout. 

A  haze  seemed  to  rush  over  my  soul.  All  that 
happened  in  the  next  five-  minutes  is  an  utter  con 
fusion  of  tumultuous  and  ungovernable  impres 
sions.  "  All  hands  "  must  have  been  called,  but 
I  could  not  hear  the  words.  Every  man  sprang 
toward  his  boat  —  in  fact,  the  movements  of  the 
crew  were  automatic  and  inerrant  —  yet  I  made 
nothing  coherent  of  their  desperate  hurry.  Almost 
in  an  instant  the  boats  were  lowered  swift  away  ; 
but  not  until  three  long  whale-boats  were  dashing 
out  after  the  great  leviathan  and  bent  now  upon 
actual  chase,  did  I  come  to  myself  far  enough  to 
take  good  account  of  how  this  vast  concern  was 
being  brought  to  pass. 

I  have  heard  of  buck  fever.  But,  lands  and 
seas,  it  is  nothing  to  whale  fever  ! 


36  THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN. 

Nevertheless,  in  the  midst  of  so  crazed  a  mood, 
I  did,  without  so  much  as  considering  it,  my 
appointed  duty  which,  for  all  that,  was  not  diffi 
cult  ;  being,  as  long  beforehand  I  had  been  in 
structed,  to  remain  on  board  and  do  nothing. 
That  was  a  simple  task,  but  by  no  means  agree 
able. 

It  was  certainly  a  vivid  contradiction,  as  I  have 
often  since  reflected,  that  while  I,  who  was  least  in 
the  struggle,  went  clean  daft  for  the  moment,  the 
whale,  who  was  of  all  concerned  most  gravely 
implicated,  lay  spouting  contentedly  only  a  small 
w^ay  from  the  Swift,  and  as  wholly  free  from  worry 
or  care  as  a  comfortable  cow  nibbling  pink  and 
white  clover-tops. 

"  Boy,"  said  the  cooper,  for  he  stood  next  to  me 
and  together  we  watched  the  chase,  "  I'll  bet  my 
go-ashore  shirt  and  pantaloons  they'll  set  you 
a- turning  that  'ar  grin-stun  !  " 

This  sage  observation  was  the  expression  of  a 
splendid  optimism,  for  when  a  whale  is  being  cut 
in,  the  cabin-boy  turns  the  grindstone  while  the 
cooper  sharpens  the  cutting-spades. 

"  Oh,  by  Reuben  Ranzo  !  "  yelled  the  cooper, 
grabbing  me  by  the  collar,  "  They'll  galley  him  !  " 

Then,  tightening  his  grip  on  my  neck  till  I 
thought  he  would  strangle  me,  he  emphasized  his 


THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN.  O< 

sudden  plunge  into  pessimism  with  a  blast  of 
emphatic  and  unmistakable  English. 

Luckily  for  my  continued  existence,  the  fortunes 
of  the  whale-chase  suddenly  grew  brighter.  The 
cooper  loosed  his  unconscious  grip  on  my  throat 
and  leaned  out  over  the  rail,  his  eyes  bulging  with 
intense  interest. 

The  chief  mate's  boat  approached  the  column  of 
steam  that  rose  from  the  whale's  spout-hole. 

The  harpooner  hurled  his  merciless  iron. 

The  iron  took  hold  in  the  quivering  flesh  of  the 
whale,  and  instantly  the  captain's  boat  dashed  up 
and  a  second  harpoon  went  hurtling  through  the 
air  to  plant  itself  close  to  the  first.  The  whale 
writhed  with  sudden  pain  and  fright,  but  did  not 
go  down.  He  preferred  to  fight. 

The  old  man,  however,  had  plans  of  his  own  ; 
lie  would  kill  the  whale,  and  that  immediately. 

He  bellowed  a  hasty  order  to  the  mate,  thinking 
to  drive  the  mate's  boat  out  of  his  way,  but  he  had 
not  calculated  upon  the  stubborn  ambition  of  that 
hot-headed  officer.  The  mate  never  budged. 

Enraged  at  his  opposition,  the  captain  crowded 
in  between  the  mate  and  the  monster,  and  ran  his 
lance  into  the  wrhale's  vitals.  Then  there  was 
such  a  commotion  as  I  had  never  before  witnessed. 
The  whale  went  into  a  frantic  flurry,  barrels-full  of 


38 


THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN. 


THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAX.  39 

rich,  dark  blood  were  hurled  into  the  air  from  his 
spout-hole,  the  boats  dashed  away  from  him  as 
they  would  from  an  enraged  sea-serpent,  and 
behold  —  a  half-dozen  men  floundering  about  in 
the  water  ! 

"  Stoven  !  "  yelled  the  cooper,  renewing  his 
unconscious  assaults  upon  my  collar.  "  Served 
him  dead  right,  I  swear  !  An'  bless  ye,  boy,  the 
old  lobster-back  can't  swim  a  stroke  !  " 

Indeed  he  could  not.  There  was  the  captain  in 
the  water,  as  helpless  as  a  lady,  and  two  of  his 
men  were  trying  their  best  to  keep  him  from 
sinking,  while  one  of  the  two  uninjured  boats  was 
coming  up  to  take  him  aboard. 

"  Same  old  yarn,"  said  the  cooper.  u  I've  sailed 
with  the  old  man  five  year  if  I've  sailed  a  day,  an' 
I  tell  ye,  boy,  he's  done  this  lubberly  trick  forty 
times  over.  Gits  wearisome,  now  an'  then,  dead 
wearisome  for  them  Jacks  to  float  a  poor  lubber 
that  won't  learn  swimmin',  and  dead  wearisome 
for  poor  old  Chips  to  have  to  mend  the  old  man's 
boat  after  every  blessed  chase." 

"  Then  why  doesn't  the  captain  learn  to  swim?" 

The  cooper  ventured  no  answer.  He  was 
watching  the  mate  getting  a  line  fast  to  Old 
Blubber.  Suddenly  he  bethought  himself  of 
grindstone  and  spades,  and  as  quickly  was  off  to 


40  THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN. 

make  ready  for  the  work  that  would  turn  me  into 
a  slavish  minion. 

Even  before  the  boats  had  come  in  and  had  got 
the  whale  alongside  and  well  into  the  fluke-chains, 
the  grinding  of  spades  began. 

Often  arid  often  I  had  heard  men  of  the  sea  tell 
how  a  whale  was  cut  in  and  tried  out,  but  now, 
with  my  own  lucky  eyes,  I  was  to  see  the  thing 
done. 

But  before  I  describe  how  the  whale  was  cut  in, 
I  must  say  something  about  wrhales  in  general. 

There  are  many  kinds,  but  only  two  are  of 
importance  to  whalemen.  The  right  whale  is 
sought  for  his  bone.  The  sperm  whale  is  sought 
for  his  blubber.  We  of  the  Swift  were  sperm 
whaling. 

Pictures  of  whales  are  uniformly  deceptive. 
They  give  the  impression  that  a  good  part  of  the 
animal  (not  fish,  —  a  whale  is  a  hot-blooded  mam 
mal)  can  be  seen  above  the  surface  of  the  sea. 
They  also  indicate  that  a  whale's  spout  is  made 
of  water.  It  is  no  such  thing.  All  you  can 
commonly  see  of  a  whale  from  the  ship's  deck  is 
his  spout  and  that  is  a  mere  column  of  vapor. 
It's  his  breath.  Get  that  once  in  mind  and  you'll 
never  call  a  whale  a  fish.  You  never  saw  a  fish 
breathe  air.  You  never  found  a  fish  warm  enough 


THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN.  41 

to  belch  out  white  vapor  on  a  summer's  day  like  a 
steamboat. 

Such,  then,  is  the  whale's  spout.  And  by  the 
spout  the  two  kinds  of  whales,  sperm  and  right, 
can  be  distinguished.  A  sperm  whale  has  but  one 
spout-hole,  and  throws  the  spout  forward  at  an 
angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees  —  a  thick  spout 
and  not  very  high,  rising  from  a  point  near  the 
whale's  "  nose."  A  right  whale  has  two  spout- 
holes,  very  close  together.  They  are  about 
eighteen  feet  from  the  end  of  his  head  and,  of 
course,  much  nearer  his  lungs  than  is  the  case 
with  the  sperm  whale.  Consequently  the  vapor 
shoots  up  higher  and  as  straight  as  a  mast.  It 
spreads  as  it  rises.  I  suppose,  too,  that  the  big 
ness  of  a  whale  is  something  few  landsmen  could 
well  give  account  of.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  a  sixty- 
foot  whale  is  about  as  big  as  you  will  ever  see. 
Big  enough,  says  any  whaleman  —  big  enough  to 
serve  as  a  very  worthy  adversary  to  pigmy  man 
who  goes  to  slay  him  ! 

Very  naturally  you  ask,  as  Brutus  did  (or  was 
it  Cassius  ? )  :  "  What  meat  has  this,  our  Caesar 
fed  on,  that  he  is  grown  so  great  ?  " 

That  depends  on  your  whale.  The  sperm 
whale,  having  teeth,  lives  on  deep-sea  jelly-fish. 
The  right  whale,  which  is  as  toothless  as  any 


42  THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN. 

dotard,  lives  on  a  tiny  red  creature  called  brit,  no 
larger  than  a  spider,  but  so  numerous  as  to  color 
the  water  a  yellowish  red  over  whole  acres. 

It  is  because  of  his  choice  of  diet  that  the  right 
whale  has  his  mouth  filled  with  a  huge  sieve  of 
whalebone.  That  sieve  is  to  let  the  brit  through 
and  to  shut  bigger  sea-things  out. 

The  arrangement  is  a  decided  success.  I  have 
seen  a  right  whale  make  a  scoop  of  his  broad  lips 
and  rush  through  a  field  of  brit  (like  a  snow- 
plow  through  a  drift)  and  leave  a  trail  of  blue 
water  behind  him.  That  is  a  sight  to  remember 
and  also  a  sound  to  remember,  for  when  a  right 
whale  is  feeding  he  spouts  with  tremendous  force. 
At  such  a  time  you  will  have  no  hope  of  striking 
him. 

But  right  whales  don't  concern  me  nor  do  I 
concern  right  whales.  We  were  after  oil  and  we 
wanted  sperm  whales  or  none. 

The  oil  is  made  from  the  blubber,  mainly,  and 
the  blubber  covers  the  whale  like  a  thick  coating 
of  fat  pork.  In  one  sense  it  is  a  blanket ;  it 
keeps  the  whale  warm  in  the  coldest  sea-water. 
In  another  sense  it  is  a  shell  —  or  even  a  padded 
coat ;  it  relieves  the  tremendous  pressure  of  the 
water  upon  the  whale's  body  when  he  sounds  to 
the  depths  of  the  sea. 


THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN.  43 

Sperm  whales  have,  as  already  intimated,  their 
ups  and  downs.  A  large  sperm  whale  remains 
under  water  from  forty-five  minutes  to  an  hour 
and  a  quarter.  That  is  a  fact  to  go  by.  When  a 
whale  has  sounded  and  you  are  waiting  for  him  to 
come  up,  it  is  a  relief  to  know  that  some  sort  of 
limit  is  set  upon  his  delay.  But  that  is  not  all. 
You  can  judge  where  he  will  come  up.  For  a 
whale  travels,  unless  vigorously  disturbed,  about 
two  miles  an  hour.  So  you  note  which  way  he 
headed  when  he  sounded,  and  you  measure  off  two 
miles  in  that  direction,  and  you  know  where  to 
meet  your  friend  again.  This  is  an  infallible  rule 
whenever  it  works. 

But  a  whale  has  something  beside  ups  and 
downs  and  blubber.  He  has  a  marvellous 
sagacity.  By  some  mysterious  process,  which 
I  suppose  the  Society  for  Psychical  Research 
would  call  "  thought  transference,"  whales  pass 
the  news  of  disaster  from  one  end  of  a  school 
to  another.  When  one  of  the  company  is 
wounded,  every  whale  within  a  radius  of  four 
miles  is  advised  of  the  fact.  Sometimes  the 
alarm  will  bring  speedy  assistance.  That  gives 
the  whaleman  only  a  better  chance  to  ply  his 
gainful  trade.  Sometimes  a  retreat  is  ordered. 

o 

The  whole  squadron  will   dash  away  as  by  some 


44  THAT    GREAT   LEVIATHAN. 

instantaneous  common  impulse,  evidently  terror- 
struck. 

Can  a  sperm  whale  be  called  a  globe-trotter  ? 
Be  that  as  it  may,  the  sperm  whale  migrates  far 
and  wide.  Ships  cruise  on  the  shores  of  Chili  and 
Peru  at  a  distance  of  from  two  to  one  hundred 
leagues  from  the  shore,  and  you  will  often  see 
both  in-  and  off-shore  vessels  doing  nothing.  At 
other  times  all  will  be  engaged.  Where  were  the 
whales  while  the  ships  lay  idle  ?  Roving  over  the 
broad  seas,  no  doubt,  and  many  a  mile  away, 
a-taking  of  their  ease. 

It  is  known  to  a  solid  certainty  that  whales 
have  been  harpooned  in  the  Atlantic  ocean,  and 
have  been  afterward  taken  in  the  Pacific.  The 
marks  on  the  irons  proved  the  identity  of  the 
whale  every  time.  Old  Blubber  seems  to  travel 
for  change  of  scene.  It  is  clear  that  he  is  not  led 
to  migrate  by  any  fear  of  the  whalemen.  Indeed, 
whales  are  not  easily  driven  away  from  their 
feeding-ground  by  ships. 

But  whatever  the  ups  and  downs  of  that  whale 
alongside  the  Swift,  and  whatever  the  vicissitudes 
of  his  travelling  days,  one  thing  was  clear.  That 
whale  was  dead.  Like  Marley  of  blessed  memory, 
he  was  dead  as  a  door-nail.  Unlike  Marley,  how 
ever,  he  could  never  come  to  life  again.  They 
were  cutting  him  in.  I  saw  it  done. 


THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN.  45 

I  beheld  two  stages  slung  over  the  side  of  the 
ship,   each   stage   six  feet  long  and  a  foot  wide. 
Men  stood  upon  the  stages  with  sharp  spades  - 
one  to  cut  the  blubber,  the  other  to  kill  the  sharks 
that  would  have  devoured  our  prize. 

I  saw  an  aperture  made  near  the  whale's  fin.  I 
saw  the  great  hook  inserted.  I  saw  a  semi-circle 
cut  around  the  hook. 

Then  they  took  the  falls  to  the  windlass.  The 
windlass  wound  in  the  chain.  The  chain  passed 
through  a  block  at  the  main-mast  head.  The  chain 
then  became  the  tackle,  heaved  hard  at  the  iron 
hook,  and  stripped  the  blubber  from  the  whale. 

The  blubber  came  off  in  a  continuous  spiral 
strip.  The  whale  meanwhile  kept  turning  over 
and  over  in  the  water.  The  ripping  of  the  blubber 
from  the  carcass  was  guided  by  the  sharp  spade  of 
the  officer  on  the  stage. 

I  saw  a  strip  of  white,  pork-like  blubber, 
twenty-five  feet  long  and  five  feet  wide,  hoisted 
into  a  perpendicular  position  and  its  top  touch 
ing  the  mast-head.  Then  they  cut  the  piece 
(  "blanket-piece,"  they  said)  loose  from  the  whale 
and  lowered  the  blubber  into  the  ship's  hold 
between  decks,  at  the  same  time  attaching  the 
other  tackle  to  a  fresh  cut  in  the  whale's  flesh  and 
preparing  to  raise  another  blanketrpiece. 


46 


THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN. 


THAT    GREAT    LEVIATHAN.  47 

I  saw  this  process  repeated  until  the  blubber 
was  stripped  from  the  whale. 

I  saw  the  head  cut  off  from  the  huge  beast 
and  hoisted  on  deck.  I  felt  the  great  ship 
strain.  The  standing-rigging  on  the  starboard 
side  slackened.  The  mast  bent  over  like  a  wrhip- 
stock.  I  saw  the  Swift  listed  till  her  plank-shear 
was  nearly  level  with  the  water. 

A  filthy  column  of  black  smoke  rose  out  of  the 
try-works.  They  were  cutting  the  blubber  into 
horse-pieces,  mincing  these  pieces,  and  putting  the 
hashed  blubber  into  huge  pots  with  brick  flooring 
under  them  and  a  blazing  fire  of  blubber  scraps 
blazing  around  them.  Thence  the  oil  passed  into 
a  huge  copper  cooler  and  thence  in  turn  into  casks. 

They  made  merry  over  the  boiling.  They 
nibbled  bits  of  fried  blubber,  and  they  fried 
doughnuts  in  the  grease. 

The  whole  ship  was  befouled,  but  we  soon  had 
her  cleaned  up  again,  man-o'-war  fashion ;  and 
what  was  better  yet,  we  coopered  a  hundred 
barrels  of  oil. 

"  Lands  and  seas,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  this  is  the 
biggest  business  afloat  or  ashore." 

But  as  yet  I  had  not  chased  a  whale. 


BRINGING  MR.  TOWNSEND 
BACK  AGAIN. 

' '  Escape  me  ? 
Never, 
Beloved!" 

— Browning. 

"  Tell  me,  messmate,  why  in  the  name  of  all 
that's  shipshape  did  you  ever  come  to  sea  ?  " 

"  Shiver  my  soul  if  I  can  tell !  " 

"  I'll  tell  you,  boy,  I'll  tell  you.  You  come  to 
sea  just  to  see  the  world.  Ain't  I  right,  Jack  ? 
All  you  come  for  was  just  to  see  the  world.  You 
wanted  to  clap  your  blinkin'  top-lights  on  Nuka- 
hiva,  an'  Upolo,  an'  Hivaoa,  an'  the  Cape,  an' 
Mahee,  an'  all  them  high-saoundin'  places  you 
hearn  tell  on  when  you  was  knee-high  to  a  marlin' 
spike." 

The  older  man  spoke  with  an  air  of  preternatu 
ral  knowingness.  He  leaned  forward  insinuatingly 
upon  the  stout  iron  hoop  that  ran  under  his  arms. 
The  youth,  as  he  listened  to  this  relentless  diag 
nosis  of  his  distemper,  lolled  back  upon  his  own 
iron  hoop  and  thrust  his  half-akimbo  elbows  out 
across  it.  The  two  whalemen  were  upon  lookout 
duty  at  the  mainmast  head  of  that  staunch  old 
hooker,  the  whaling  ship  Swift. 


BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK   AGAIN.         49 

"Taownsend,"  the  old  sea-dog  continued,  "I 
don't  much  blame  you  for  corning,  but  by  the 
bloody  wars  you're  a  fool  if  you  desert.  We've 
had  blasted  poor  luck,  I  know,  blasted  poor.  And 
I  know,  too,  we've  all  got  to  lose  by  it,  every  Jack 
Tar  of  us,  all  the  way  from  the  old  man  on  the 
quarter-deck  down  to  Charlie  Bobbins  in  the  cabin. 
Some  ways  I'd  rather  be  to  sea  in  a  merchantman 
and  git  reg'lar  wages  'stid  o'  goin'  by  lays.  But  I 
tell  you,  Taownsend,  you're  a  blarsted  ninny  if 
you  try  to  get  aout  o'  this  butter-box.  First 
place,  them  tattoo  natives'll  make  dunder-funk 
o'  your  tender  timbers  'fore  you  been  ashore  half 
a  day.  Nex'  place,  you'll  never  git  a  lift  oft'  that 
there  island  if  you  once  git  on  it  —  you'll  just  be 
a  low-daown  beach  comber  all  the  rest  o'  your 
natchral  days.  Third  place,  the  old  man '11  git  the 
darbies  on  you  'n  less'n  a  week  an'  then  you'll  be 
back  aboard  o'  here  an'  wishin'  you  was  plumb 
dead." 

A  very  determined  look  glaring  out  of  the 
old  blubber  hunter's  sharp  eyes  showed  that  he 
thought  his  logic  invincible. 

One  fact,  however,  he  had  wholly  overlooked. 
Townsend  was  in  debt  to  the  old  man.  He  had 
shipped  for  a  long  lay  and  had  a  thumping  big 
bill  for  outfitting  and  board  before  we  sailed  from 


50         BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK    AGAIN. 

old  New  Bedford.  So  if  he  remained  in  the  Swift 
throughout  the  voyage  he  would  have  little  or 
nothing  coming  to  him  at  its  conclusion.  There 
fore,  from  Townsend's  standpoint  it  was  worth 
while  to  take  big  risks  and  try  to  ship  again. 
The  venture  involved  no  loss  and  a  possible  gain. 

So,  despite  the  grave  counsel  from  the  ancient 
mariner,  this  daring  young  citizen  of  Rochester, 
N.  Y.,  gazed  wistfully  toward  the  splendid  wooded 
island  —  one  of  the  Navigator  group,  better  known 
under  the  name  of  Samoa  —  which  rose  majesti 
cally  out  of  the  ocean,  green,  luxuriant,  fascinating. 
It  was  scarce  two  miles  away. 

"  My  stars !  "  said  Townsend  to  himself,  "  my 
stars,  if  I  was  only  there!  " 

No  amount  of  good  advice  could  change  Town 
send's  determination  to  leave  the  ship.  Old 
Bowline  might  have  informed  the  officers  of  Town 
send's  plans,  but  he  thought  he  had  talked  the 
boy  out  of  his  folly.  So  the  project  developed 
quite  as  if  it  had  suffered  nothing  by  interference. 

We  cruised  so  near  the  Samoa  Islands  that  not 
infrequently  the  natives  would  come  off  in  canoes, 
bringing  the  usual  commodities  —  fruit,  cocoanuts, 
fowl  and  pigs  —  to  trade  for  cotton  cloth,  gun 
powder,  iron  hoops,  and  the  trinkets  and  gimcracks 
they  always  find  so  desirable. 


BRINGING   MR.    TOWNSEND   BACK   AGAIN.         51 

It  often  happened  that  a  canoe  would  bring 
along  as  trader  and  interpreter  some  renegade 
whaleman  who  had  deserted  his  ship  and  turned 
"  beachcomber,"  living  among  the  natives,  and 
little  better  than  the  worst  of  them.  This  is  one 
of  the  strangest  things  about  sailoring.  A  sea 
man's  civilization  will  drop  off  like  the  cast  skin 
of  a  rattlesnake  when  he  goes  to  live  among 
savages. 

While  trading  was  going  on  —  and  it  would 
sometimes  last  two  days  at  a  stretch  —  the  old 
man  would  keep  one  of  the  brown-skinned,  yellow- 
haired,  frizzle-headed  tatooed  natives  on  board  as 
a  hostage.  The  old  man  had  learned  caution  by 
bitter  experience.  At  Hivaoa  we  had  found  it  by 
no  means  easy  to  keep  the  natives  from  kidnap 
ping  a  red-haired  sailor.  They  thought  his  scalp 
worth  more  than  his  life.  At  Auhuga  one  of  our 
men  was  actually  roasted  and  eaten. 

That  was  a  lesson  to  remember.  We  never 
took  chances  after  that.  But  with  a  native  host 
age  on  board  the  ship,  we  were  not  afraid  to  go  a 
long  way  in-shore  in  our  boats,  though  we  never 
quite  ventured  to  land.  When  the  trading  was 
done  and  we  were  about  to  leave,  we  would  send 
the  hostage  off  in  one  of  our  boats,  and  as  soon  as 
we  came  within  swimming  distance  of  the  shore 


52         BRINGING   MR.    TOWNSEND   BACK   AGAIN. 

we  would  pitch  him  overboard  and  make  him 
paddle  for  terra  firma. 

Now  it  was  on  one  of  these  occasions,  when  a 
hostage  was  being  returned  to  the  bosom  of  his 
tribe,  that  the  Rochester  boy  found  an  opportun 
ity  to  desert.  He  was  in  the  boat  as  we  took  off 
the  native,  and  when  the  tatooed  man  was  about 
to  start  ashore,  Townsend  suddenly  jumped  over 
board  and  swam  for  the  land.  The  officer  in 
charge  ordered  him  to  return,  but  he  never  paid 
the  least  attention  —  just  tumbled  through  the 
surf,  scrambled  up  the  beach  and  made  away 
inland  as  fast  as  his  truant  heels  could  carry  him. 

"  Blast  my  luck,"  said  the  officer,  "  blast  my 
ugly  luck  !  Now  I'll  have  to  face  the  music  ! 
Now  the  old  man'll  make  me  waltz !  "  But  he 
checked  the  outpouring  of  his  chagrined  rage. 
He  tried  to  recover  something  like  dignity  before 
his  men.  The  men,  on  their  part,  suppressed  their 
merriment.  Without  another  word  from  anybody 
the  boat  returned  to  the  ship. 

It  was  just  as  the  second  mate  had  predicted. 
The  old  man  flew  into  a  terrible  passion,  swore 
hideous  blasts  of  blubber-slicer  profanity,  cursed 
everybody  and  everything  from  the  chief  mate  to 
the  carpenter's  ditty-box,  and  vowed  hed  have 
that  Townsend  back  in  his  clutches  again  if  he  had 


BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK    AGAIN.          53 

to  chase  him  till  the  end  of  time.  He  didn't  care 
what  it  cost.  Hed  get  even  with  that  cussed 
young  beach-comber  if  he  had  to  die  for  it,  and 
all  the  rest  of  us  along  with  him.  He'd  rather 
get  a  good  fierce  grip  on  Ed.  Townsend  than  try 
out  the  last  sperm  whale  in  the  South  Pacific  — 
he'd  be  blowed  if  he  wouldn't ! 

But,  as  on  former  occasions,  we  saw  the  gale 
blow  by.  The  worse  the  old  man  raged  the 
sooner  he  would  calm  down.  And  when  the 
tempest  was  over,  all  that  remained  of  the  case 
against  Townsend  was  a  sincere  desire,  with 
a  proportionate  determination,  to  recover  the 
services  of  so  good  a  sailor. 

So  the  next  day  we  stood  in  to  another  bay, 
about  four  miles  to  the  leeward  of  the  place  that 
had  witnessed  Townsend' s  escape.  There,  unable 
to  drop  our  mud-hook,  we  lay  off  and  on. 

We  had  not  been  long  in  the  bay  before  a  canoe 
came  off  with  a  white  man  and  two  natives.  That 
was  just  the  very  thing  the  old  man  wanted.  He 
received  the  visitors  with  eager  welcome,  invited 
them  into  the  cabin,  ordered  drinks  for  four,  and 
dismissed  the  steward,  warning  him  to  shut  the 
door  tight  behind  him. 

The  quartette  remained  in  solemn  executive 
session  for  half  an  hour.  Then  the  cabin  door 


54          BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    B4CK   AGAIN. 

opened,  the  men  came  up  on  deck,  and  as  the 
visitors  clambered  down  into  their  canoe  again  I 
heard  the  old  man  whisper  over  the  rail,  "  Now 
remember,  my  man,  two  white  flags  and  you  get 
your  reward !  " 

Then  we  stood  off  and  put  to  sea,  cruising  the 
grounds  again  looking  for  whales. 

One  warm,  bright,  clear-shining  Southern  morn 
ing  we  were  fanning  along  under  a  cloud  of  canvas 
over  a  delightfully  smooth  sea,  when  a  cry  from 
the  clouds  called  down  the  spirited  warning  I  had 
heard  on  a  former  occasion  : 

"  There  she  blows  !     Sperm  whale  !  " 

"  Where  away  ?  " 

There  was  breathless  excitement  on  deck.  My 
heart  hammered  against  my  ribs.  I  shook  with 
bewildered  suspense. 

"  Four  points  on  the  lee  bow,  sir." 

The  words  stabbed  through  and  through  me. 

"How  far  off?" 

"  Three  miles,  sir." 

The  captain  was  in  his  element.  His  eyes 
blazed.  His  face  was  white.  His  voice  was  harsh 
and  strident.  He  was  master  of  a  splendid 
occasion. 

"  Call  all  hands  !  "  he  thundered.  "  Get  your 
boats  ready !  Square  the  mainyard !  Put  the 


BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK   AGAIN.          55 

helm  up  and  keep  her  off ! "  Heavens,  what 
confusion  ! 

"  Stand  by  your  boats  !  " 

At  that,  every  man  knew  his  place  and  sprang 
for  it  with  an  eager  bound  of  joy.  I  was  among 
them.  For  the  first  time  in  my  young  life  I  was 
to  go  in  a  whale-boat.  I  wras  in  the  mate's  boat. 

"  Lower  away  boats !  "  bellowed  His  Majesty. 

Instantly  the  mate  and  the  boat-steerer  sprang 
into  the  cedar  boat  —  one  in  either  end,  boat- 
steerer  forward,  officer  aft  —  and  our  crew  were 
over  the  ship's  side  before  the  boat  splashed  in 
the  water.  We  pounced  upon  our  thwarts,  seized 
our  long  oars,  looked  sharp  astern,  and  took  the 
prompt  word  of  command.  I  pulled  after  oar. 

The  sail  was  up  in  a  twinkling.  It  bellied  out 
full.  We  dashed  headlong  after  our  prey.  We 
were  in  the  lead.  The  captain  and  the  second 
mate  followed  close. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  dazzling  sensations 
of  that  first  moment  —  the  tall  ship,  with  her 
checkered  sides  and  her  huge  white  davits  ;  the 
two  sharp-bowed  clinker  built  boats  —  five  long 
oars  in  each ;  two  on  one  side,  three  on  the  other; 
the  sun-glint  upon  the  oar-blades  as  they  lifted 
above  the  surface,  the  white  splash  when  they 
dipped  again  ;  the  rapid,  nervous,  brutal  stroke  ; 


56         BRINGING   MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK   AGAIN. 

the  pose  of  the  officers  as  they  stood  in  the  stern- 
sheets  of  the  boats,  each  with  his  lifted  left  hand 
holding  the  steering  oar,  and  each  with  his  right 
hand  pushing  upon  the  stroke  oar ;  and,  yet  more 
vivid,  the  one  figure  I  could  see  in  our  own  boat. 
For  the  mate  stood  last,  steering  with  one  hand 
and  helping  me  row  with  the  other. 

How  those  men  sprang  to  their  oars  —  it  makes 
my  blood  tingle  to  recall.  The  oars  bent  in  the 
water.  We  ripped  through  the  waves,  the  spray 
dashing  high  and  white.  We  were  chasing  the 
whale  ! 

And  here  is  the  wonderful  thing.  I  had  not  yet 
got  a  glimpse  of  the  whale.  In  the  confusion  and 
excitement  of  lowering  away,  I  had  not  even  seen 
the  column  of  vapor  that  marked  him  to  view.  I 
sat  toiling  in  that  pitching  and  careening  boat, 
with  my  back  toward  the  whale. 

It  was  terrible  —  going  to  my  death,  it  might 
be,  and  going  backward  ! 

The  mate's  face  reassured  me.  He  was  cool 
and  determined  —  teeth  clenched,  eyes  glaring, 
brows  knitted,  but  not  a  sign  of  anxiety.  He 
knew  no  such  thing  as  fear. 

He  thrust  out  his  chin.  I  could  see  the  cords 
draw  stiff  in  his  neck.  His  face  was  red  from 
exertion.  Every  nerve  thrilled  with  a  fierce  joy. 


BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK    AGAIN.          57 

He  whispered  encouragement  to  his  crew  -  -  hissed 
it  —  gasped  it. 

"  Spring  hard,  my  lively  hearties !  Spring 
hard  !  Break  a  stick,  will  you  ?  will  you  ?  break 
a  stick  !  Come,  come,  come,  —  spring  hard  !  ' 

We  pulled  like  mad. 

"  Not  a  word  —  not  a  word  !  If  you  make  the 
least  bit  of  noise  I'll  brain  every  one  of  you  ! 
Come,  come,  —  break  an  oar!" 

We  exerted  ourselves  to  the  uttermost.  We 
bent  the  oars  till  I  thought  they  would  snap 
in  two. 

"  Give  away,  boys  !     Spring  hard  !  " 

The  captain  tried  his  best  to  outfoot  us.  The 
water  leaped  in  foam  around  the  prow  of  his  boat. 
Suddenly  the  mate's  face  changed.  He  bit  his 
lip.  His  eyes  stared  fixedly.  He  threw  back 
his  head. 

"  Peak  your  oar,"  he  hissed.  Then  he  shouted, 
"  Stand  up  and  let  him  have  it  !  " 

I  thought  my  heart  would  burst.  Everything 
swam  before  me.  I  gripped  my  oar  tight.  I 
thought  I  was  fainting. 

"  Starn  all,"  the  mate  roared.  "  Starn  all,  and 
get  out  of  the  suds  !  " 

I  fell  forward  with  my  full  weight  upon  my  oar. 
The  mast  and  sail  came  down  as  by  magic.  The 


58         BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK   AGAIN. 

mate  rushed  forward ;  the  harpooner  rushed  aft ; 
they  changed  places.  The  line  leaped  out  of  its 
Flemish  coil  in  the  tub. 

We  were  fast  to  a  whale  ! 

The  whale  sounded  and  the  line  flew  after  him. 
It  smoked  around  the  loggerheard,  it  buzzed  as  it 
raced  past  the  men,  it  groaned  in  the  chocks. 
They  poured  water  on  the  loggerhead  to  keep  it 
from  taking  fire.  The  whale,  with  two  harpoons 
in  him,  took  two  hundred  fathoms  of  our  line. 

He  was  gone  but  five  minutes. 

Then,  oh  the  horror !  A  vast,  black,  shining 
mass  stood  up  ten  feet  out  of  water  on  our  lee 
beam.  It  was  the  whale.  He  had  come  up  head 
first,  a  hundred  feet  away. 

The  boat-steerer  swung  the  steering-oar  with  all 
his  might.  The  boat  instantly  turned  half  about. 

"  Haul  line,  all  hands  !  "  whispered  the  boat- 
steerer.  The  Manila  line  came  in  wet  and  heavy, 
and  ran  back  into  the  stern-sheets.  We  were 
gaining  upon  our  prey. 

"  Take  your  oars  now." 

Again  we  were  brought  with  our  backs  to  the 
whale.  The  awful  moment  was  at  hand.  Oh,  for 
eyes  in  the  back  of  my  head  !  The  officer  must 
already  be  standing  up,  lance  in  hand,  ready  to 
strike  the  murderous  blow. 


BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK    AGAIN.         59 

The  boat-steerer's  mouth  was  half-open  with 
expectancy  —  and  behold  !  Almost  against  our 
boat,  and  just  awash  of  the  surface,  the  monstrous 
black  bulk  of  the  whale !  He  stretched  huge  and 
dim  under  water.  Only  part  of  him  could  be 
seen.  A  slanting  column  of  hot  white  vapor  stood 
up  ten  feet  tall,  like  a  rakish  mast.  It  was  the 
whale's  spout. 

When  the  mate's  lance  had  been  sent  into  the 
whale's  vitals,  the  boat  dashed  away  from  the 
monster,  and  I  got  my  first  good  view  of  him. 
He  was  cutting  and  thrashing  like  a  cat  in  a  fit. 
The  water  all  round  him  was  crimson.  Jets  of 
thick,  cloggy  blood  —  a  hogsheadful  at  each  jet  — 
leaped  six  feet  high  from  his  spout-hole.  Then 
gradually  the  jets  grew  feebler.  Then  the  blood 
merely  poured  out.  Then  the  whale  took  a  swift, 
wide  circle  against  the  sun,  threw  his  whole  mass 
out  of  water,  breaching ;  fell  on  his  side  with 
a  hideous,  wallowing  splash ;  stuck  one  fin  up, 
quivering  ;  dropped  his  huge,  ivory- toothed  jaw, 
and  lay  dead,  in  a  lather  of  blood  and  foam  ! 

An  involuntary  yell  of  triumph  went  up  simul 
taneously  from  all  three  boats. 

We  rowed  up  to  the  whale,  and  before  we 
attached  our  tow-rope,  the  mate  ran  his  lance  into 
the  whale's  eye  to  make  sure  the  life  was  all  gone 


60         BRINGING   MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK   AGAIN. 

out  of  him.  He  never  even  quivered.  So  the 
line  was  made  fast  to  a  slit  cut  in  old  Blubber's 
spout-hole,  and  we  towed  his  huge  carcass  to  the 
Swift.  On  the  way  thither,  Brother  Bowline, 
who  was  pulling  bow  oar,  leaned  forward  between 
strokes,  and  said,  in  jerky  phrases  interrupted  by 
his  work,  "  I  tell  you,  Charlie,  young  Townsend 
would  be  sorry  enough  —  if  he  could  see  us  now, 
don't  you  —  say  so,  boy  ?  Never  saw  prettier 
fight,  no  —  body  hurt,  nothin'  broke.  Lord,  how 
I  pity  that  fool  on  the  island  !  " 

It  amazed  me  to  see  how  easily  we  towed  the 
tremendous,  sixty-foot  carcass.  After  we  once 
got  the  whale  started  he  seemed  to  propel  himself. 
You  would  never  think  it  from  his  "  model,"  and 
yet  the  big  beast  can  run  like  a  race-horse  when 
he's  alive.  The  motion  is  all  but  effortless  —  a 
little  squirming  movement  of  the  tail  sends  him 
whizzing  through  the  water. 

We  cut  that  whale  in  and  boiled  out  his  blubber. 

Then  we  set  about  a  most  unaccountable  task. 
The  old  man  ordered  it  and  we  had  to  obey,  but 
we  growled  while  we  worked.  The  task  was  no 
less  than  the  sending  down  of  our  light  yards  — 
top-gallants  and  royals  —  and  the  striking  of  fore 
and  mizzen-top-gallant  masts.  There  seemed  to 
be  no  need  for  such  a  procedure.  There  was  only 


BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK    AGAIN.         61 

a  very  light  breeze  blowing,  and  not  a  sign  of  a 
storm  anywhere. 

Old  Bowline  thought  the  crew  were  being  hazed. 
He  reminded  his  shipmates  that  the  old  man  had 
had  "such  times"  before.  Didn't  every  man 
remember  pounding  the  anchor  hour  after  hour  ? 
Could  anybody  forget  the  unnecessary  holyston 
ing  of  the  deck  ?  Had  nobody  any  recollection  of 
wearing  out  his  knees  pushing  a  "  prayer  book  " 
—  and  swearing  inside  his  jumpers  while  he  did  it  ? 

I,  for  my  part,  had  quite  different  suspicions. 
I  could  not  shake  myself  wholly  free  of  the  notion 
that  all  this  change  aboard  the  Swift  was  in  some 
way  connected  w*ith  the  old  man's  farewell  admoni 
tion  to  the  beach-comber  :  "  Remember,  now,  two 
white  flags,  and  you  get  your  reward  !  " 

After  ten  days  had  gone  by,  an  island  rose 
proudly  out  of  the  ocean. 

It  was  the  same  green,  wooded  paradise  we  had 
last  put  out  from  —  a  beautiful,  mountainous  oasis, 
if  one  may  so  speak,  in  the  vast  waste  of  blue 
waters. 

\Ye  stood  in  for  the  beach-comber's  bay,  my 
fancy  big  with  expectancy.  I  knew  now  why 
the  old  man  had  disguised  the  ship. 

It  all  fell  out  just  as  I  had  expected.  We  beat 
our  way  up  the  harbor,  and  I  watched  the  shore 


62         BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK   AGAIN. 

with  eager  eyes.  Presently  I  saw  a  canoe  coming 
off,  dancing  on  the  swell,  her  paddles  dipped  first 
one  side  and  then  the  other,  six  Kanakas  on  her 
thwarts  and  a  white  man  in  either  end.  Each 
white  man  held  up  a  white  flag. 

Full  of  waggish  fun,  the  old  man  made  ready  to 
wear  ship  as  soon  as  the  canoe  approached,  and 
when  the  Swift  came  round  so  as  to  expose  the 
five  bold  capitals  painted  across  her  stern,  one  of 
the  white  flags  went  down  as  if  the  man  in  the 
canoe's  prow  had  suddenly  been  shot.  The  man 
fell  flat  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  burying  his 
face  in  his  hands. 

He  was  our  man  Townsend ! 

The  beach-comber  brought  the  canoe  alongside, 
and  her  crew,  Townsend  not  excepted,  clambered 
on  board. 

We  shouted  with  wicked  glee.  "  What'd  I  tell 
you,"  said  Old  Bowline.  "  Didn't  I  tell  you  you 
was  a  blarsted  ninny  ever  to  desert  ?  Now  you've 
g;ot  your  come-up-ance  !  "  I  called  out,  "  Hoist 
by  your  own  petard ;  hanged  on  your  own 
gallows;  caught  by  your  own  flag!"  But  the 
captain  called  us  all  aft  and  prepared  to  lay  down 
the  law. 

We  stood  in  a  sort  of  loose  ring  on  the  quarter 
deck.  Townsend  faced  the  captain.  Poor  truant, 
he  was  pale  as  the  ship's  courses ! 


BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK    AGAIN.          63 

The  old  man  looked  the  picture  and  personifica 
tion  of  awful  wrath. 

"  Townsend,"  he  began  in  a  sepulchral  tone 
that  made  us  all  shiver  —  but  he  never  got  any 
further  with  his  intended  oration. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha-a-a  !  "  he  bellowed.  "  Thought 
you'd  run  away  from  the  captain  of  the  whaling 
ship  Swift ,  didn't  you  ?  Oh,  ha  !  —  ha  !  —  ha  !  - 
ha-a-a !  Come,  my  hearties,  just  tow  this  deserter 
before  the  mast  and  tell  him  what  you  think  of 
him  !  Far  as  I'm  concerned  I've  got  only  this  to 
say :  if  the  poor  fool  plays  me  another  trick  like 
this,  PI!  make  it  hot  for  him  !  " 

Then,  turning  to  the  beach-comber,  he  said, 
"  We'll  settle  accounts  in  the  cabin,  if  you  like  !  " 

RIGHT   WHALES. 

We  cruised  about  three  months  in  the  Southern 
Ocean,  looking  for  right  whales.  We  saw  many, 
and  took  six  hundred  barrels  of  oil  and  about  five 
thousand  pounds  of  bone. 

One  day,  when  the  weather  was  fine  and 
the  ocean  very  calm,  we  lowered  and  gave  chase 
to  two  monstrous  right  whales  that  were  going 
slowly  to  the  leeward.  The  captain's  boat  came 
up  to  them  first,  and  succeeded  in  striking  one. 


64         BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK   AGAIN. 


H 


BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK   AGAIN.          65 

Instantly  down  went  both  the  whales.  When 
they  came  up  again,  the  mate  struck  the  other 
one.  They  proved  to  be  a  bull  and  a  cow^--the 
cow  was  struck  first. 

The  bull  made  the  sea  foam.  He  cut  around  in 
great  fury  and  stove  two  of  our  boats  —  the  cap 
tain's  and  the  mate's — and  the  lines  had  to  be 
cut  to  get  clear.  The  second  mate  came  along 
lively  and  picked  up  the  crews,  which  came  near 
sinking  his  boat.  Eighteen  men  in  one  boat,  and 
the  ship  four  miles  away  to  leeward  —  a  pleasant 
prospect !  And  as  the  wind  had  died  down  com 
pletely  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  row,  and 
that  in  an  all  but  sinking  boat,  so  cro\vded 
you  could  hardly  move  without  knocking  your 
neighbor  overboard  ! 

But  that  was  not  the  worst  of  it.  The  worst  of 
it  fell  upon  myself  and  another  dare-devil  young 
chap  —  or  rather  he  and  I  brought  it  down  upon 
ourselves,  for  we  volunteered.  It  was  this  way. 
The  captain  was  bound  not  to  lose  sight  of  the 
stoven  boats,  and  wanted  two  of  the  men  to  stay 
by  them  until  he  could  bring  the  old  hooker  and 
pick  them  up.  We  two,  being  young  and  fearless, 
offered  to  take  the  job.  We  stood  each  on  the 
stern  and  bow  of  a  boat,  sunken  just  to  the 
water's  edge,  and  hung  on  to  a  flag-pole  for  three 


66          BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK   AGAIN. 


BRINGING   MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK   AGAIN.          67 

terrible  hours,  with  the  two  wounded  whales 
cutting  about  and  making  the  water  white  with 
their  huge  flukes,  only  a  little  way  from  where 
we  stood. 

All  that  while  we  were  afraid  for  our  lives,  as 
we  were  out  in  the  middle  of  the  ocean  and  the 
ship  was  four  miles  off. 

It  is  always  with  a  shudder  that  I  recall  that 
adventure,  though  fifty  years  and  more  have 
gone  by  since  then.  But  I  remember  that  even 
when  the  danger  was  worst,  we  found  room  for 
joking  and  one  of  our  men  cried  out,  "  Better 
have  paid  your  washwoman  !  "  That  is  the  usual 
gibe  when  a  man  is  caught  in  a  stoven  boat,  for 
there  is  a  belief  among  whalers  that  if  you  don't 
pay  your  washwoman  you'll  suffer  the  penalty  of 
getting  your  boat  smashed. 

PITCAIRN'S   ISLAND. 

Here  I  insert  a  piece  of  literature  penned 
by  the  Swift's  mate  and  contributed  to  Ellis' s 
"History  of  New  Bedford/' 

"  Making  our  passage  to  the  eastward,""  says  he, 
te  when  in  the  longitude  of  Pitcairn's  Island,  the 
ship  was  put  to  the  north,  and  at  8  A.  M.  on  the 
next  day,  we  made  the  land,  appearing  more  like 


68         BRINGING   MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK   AGAIN. 

a  sail  or  ship  in  the  long  distance.  On  nearing 
we  found  the  island  to  be  nearly  2000  feet  high, 
and  about  five  miles  in  circumference,  with  a 
ledge  of  rocks  making  off  a  few  rods  from  the 
north  and  south  points.  When  within  two  miles 
of  the  islands  five  of  the  natives  came  off  in  their 
canoes,  the  canoes  being  dug  out  of  a  tree  ten  or 
twelve  feet  long  and  about  two  feet  wide,  with 
keel  from  three  to  four  inches  broad. 

"  The  natives,  before  coming  on  board,  very 
politely  asked  permission  of  the  captain.  They 
speak  very  good  English  when  talking  to  English 
or  Americans,  but  not  intelligibly  at  all  to  me 
when  talking  to  each  other,  owing  to  their  talk 
ing  so  very  quickly.  At  9  in  the  morning  I  went 
on  shore  and  found  it  very  tiresome  in  walking 
up  the  long,  steep  hill  or  cliff.  Their  houses  are 
built  of  boards,  planed  the  sides  and  ends.  The 
sides  ship  and  unship  on  account  of  its  being 
very  warm.  The  roofs  are  thatched  with  the 
leaves  of  the  trees.  We  found  the  people  very 
friendly  and  hospitable  ;  the  young  married  and 
single  women  very  diffident.  They  are  tall  —  the 
most  of  'them  —  and  handsomely  shaped.  Their 
every-day  dress  is  a  loose  gown,  with  no  shoes, 
bonnet,  or  handkerchief.  The  children  are  very 
pretty  and  healthy  and  are  good  scholars.  The 


BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK    AGAIN.          69 


70         BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK   AGAIN. 

boys  at  ten  and  eleven  had  gone  as  far  as  the 
rule  of  three.  The  men  are  well  made,  tall,  with 
good  features,  and  are  very  strong.  They  are  very 
fair  and  honest  in  all  their  dealings.  Their  prin 
cipal  industry  is  in  cultivating  the  ground.  The 
island  is  equally  divided  among  all  the  people.  In 
trading  with  ships  every  family  sells  an  equal 
share.  The  women  are  very  strong.  I  met 
several  coming  from  the  mountain.  When  down 
to  the  village  I  took  the  load  from  some  of  their 
backs,  and  counted  five  large  watermelons  as  one 
load.  '  These  women  are  between  the  ages  of 
thirty  and  forty,  and  the  mothers  of  ten  or  twelve 
children.  An  American  lady  can  hardly  come  up 
to  that.  The  girls  are  marriageable  at  the  age  of 
twelve,  and  mothers  of  fine  children  at  thirteen. 
Rather  too  young  for  our  folks.'  The  above  in 
quotation  marks  is  a  copy  from  my  journal,  writ 
ten  in  the  fall  of  1839,  at  the  time  of  our  visit  to 
the  island.  When  the  boats  returned  to  the  ship 
with  the  captain,  he  was  accompanied  by  John 
Adams,  the  son  of  John  Adams,  one  of  the 
survivors  of  the  Bounty,  the  son  of  Lieteunant 
Christian,  the  leader  of  the  mutiny.  By  invita 
tion  of  Adams  I  spent  the  night  at  his  home. 
His  family  consisted  at  this  time  of  wife  and  one 
daughter,  and  I  received  the  most  hospitable 


BRINGING    MR.    TOWNSEND    BACK   AGAIN. 


71 


treatment  in  their  simple  and  womanly  manner. 
The  boats  coming  in  in  the  morning  were  loaded 
with  the  products  of  the  island  when  I  returned  to 
the  ship." 


RUDDER   SIMPSON,   MYSELF 
AND  THE  PERSONAGE. 


Strangers  in  strange  places  should  always  be  strangers." 

—  Ruth  Ashmore. 


"  'TAINT  much  like  a  New  Bedford  Sunday,  eh 
boy?" 

" Not  by  a  long  sea  mile!  " 

"  Church  in  the  morning  —  Holy  Joe  in  his 
heavenly  togs.  Bull-fight  in  the  afternoon  — 
Holy  Joe  on  deck  with  blood  in  his  for'ard  lights, 
b'gawsh  !  Granny  Howland  !  what  a  crew  these 
here  heathen  Chilenos  be  !  Eh,  boy  ?" 

"  Pious,  though." 

"Eh?" 

"  Pious,  Rudder,  pious  as  a  saint  in  a  stained- 
glass  window.  I  was  on  shore  yesterday ;  and 
Rudder,  you  ought  to've  seen  the  turn-out.  Beats 
man-o'-war's  men  at  quarters.  Pretty  as  a  New 
Bedford  Fourth-o'-July.  Long  strings  o'  priests 
and  such  ;  big  crew  o'  sogers ;  band  o'  music ; 
flags  and  candles ;  and  all  the  dagoes  in  Talca- 
huano  turned  loose  and  shouting  Spanish  so  I 
thought  they'd  bust  an  oar  —  sure !  I  gave 


SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE.        73 

chase,  o'  course,  and  they  made  off  to  windward 
and  brought  up  in  some  kind  o'  big  square." 

"Plaza;'  said  Rudder.  "That's  what  these 
here  heathen  Chilienos  calls  it." 

"  Yes,"  I  went  on,  "  that's  the  word.  Funny 
lingo  they  talk  here.  And,  Rudder,  that  whole 
turn-out  was  brought  up  all  standing  by  an  order 
from  the  colonel,  or  general,  or  whatever  they 
call  their  <  old  man,'  and  then  they  got  out  a 
dummy  of  Judas  Iscariot." 

"  Effigy,"  laughed  Rudder,  "  That's  the  word 
you're  soundin'  for." 

"  Well,  effigy  then.  That  whole  ship's  company 
fell  in  line  again,  and  peppered  that  effigy  with 
cold  lead.  Then  they  set  the  old  moss-back  afire, 
beginning  with  his  boots,  and  when  the  fire  crept 
up  amidships  he  blew  himself  to  bits,  like  a  bomb 
lance,  and  all  the  people  yelled  and  jumped  and 
crowed.  Don't  you  call  that  pious,  Rudder  ? 

"  Well,  t' ain't  my  notion  of  piosity.  Piosity, 
boy,  is  to  keep  out  o'  jail,  keep  out  o'  bull-fights, 
and  steer  clear  o'  them  dev'lish  pulparees.  That's 
what  /call  piosity.  An'  them  pulparees — I  tell 
you,  boy  -  -  them  pulparees  is  the  sartin  road  to 
Granny  Howlan'  's  washtub.  Why,  there's  one 
now,  boy."  (A  moment  of  hesitation,  a  wriggle 
of  futile  resistance.)  "Say  we  go  in?" 


74        SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE. 

I  laughed  outright.  So  did  Rudder,  and  in 
we  went. 

A  pulparee  is  by  interpretation  a  grog-shop. 
Pulparia  is  the  Spanish,  but  we  mariners  give 
it  a  turn  of  our  own.  Dark  and  grimy  is  the 
pulparee;  desperate  and  dangerous  are  the  idlers 
that  lounge  there  ;  vile  and  strong  is  the  fiery 
liquor  they  drink. 

I  stepped  across  the  well-worn  threshold  with  a 
stinging  sense  of  guilt.  I  had  never  entered  such 
a  place  before.  I  <was  a  thorough-going  teeto 
taller.  And  besides  I  began  to  wonder  how  ever 
should  I  manage  to  comport  myself  becomingly  in 
the  fellowship  of  these  hard  and  reckless  chole 
drinkers.  I  was  sorry,  now,  that  I  had  let  Rudder 
Simpson  take  me  in  tow. 

My  embarrassment,  however,  was  soon  relieved, 
for  a  superb  native,  gorgeous  in  many  dazzling 
colors,  stepped  up  to  Simpson  and  engaged  him 
in  conversation. 

"  Bowling-alleyo,"  said  the  glittering  stranger, 
"  Senor  lika  play  nine-pinza  ?  " 

a  You're  right,"  said  Rudder,  flattered  with  the 
attention,  "  Where  away  ?  " 

"  Come,"  said  the  dazzling  personage,  with  a 
stagy  gesture.  He  looked  as  if  he  had  just 
stepped  out  of  "  Carmen." 


SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE.         /O 

The  Personage  led  the  way  into  the  street,  and 
we  followed.  We  passed  on  together  along  a 
thoroughfare  crowded  with  Chilian  merrymakers. 
Here  an  organ  grinder  had  gathered  a  motley 
crowd  of  listeners.  Yonder  a  man  and  a  woman, 
bothpeones,  were  dancing  the  zamacueca.  Leisure 
ly  throngs  strolled  by  on  their  way  to  the 
bull-fight.  Now  and  then  a  pretty  senorita 
peered  out  at  us  through  a  grated  window 
piercing  some  stout  adobe  wall. 

Spanish  was  spoken  on  every  hand.  Kudder 
and  I  enjoyed  the  novelty  of  the  situation.  It 
was  a  great  thing  to  have  a  notable  personage  to 
serve  as  guide  and  guardian,  as  we  roamed  through 
that  old,  white-walled,  red- tiled  Chilian  town. 

We  came  at  last  to  a  sort  of  cheap  inn,  or 
posada,  entering  which,  we  crossed  the  enclosed 
patio  and  found  ourselves  in  the  bowling  alley. 

Here  the  Personage  bargained  with  the  sallow, 
round-shouldered,  little  proprietor,  and  explained 
to  Rudder  the  terms  of  the  agreement.  It  was 
simplicity  itself.  The  loser  of  the  game  was  to 
pay  for  the  use  of  the  alley. 

Then  the  game  began.  The  Personage  threw  off 
his  emerald-hued^oncAo  and  gave  it  to  me  to  hold. 

With  a  magnificent  wave  of  his  patrician  hand, 
he  said  to  me,  "  You,  senor,  pick  up  ze  nine-pinza!" 


76        SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE. 

Rudder  could  not  have  made  me  do  it.  I 
should  have  fought  to  the  last  eyelash.  But  for 
the  personage  —  why,  certainly,  with  pleasure  ! 

It  was  a  great  treat  to  watch  those  two  men 
play.  What  a  curious  contrast!  The  Personage 
would  take  his  cigarrito  between  the  fingers  of  his 
left  hand,  poise  the  wooden  ball  in  the  palm  of  his 
right  hand,  strike  a  startling,  statuesque  attitude, 
and  then,  with  a  sudden  spring  that  sent  the  long 
red  sash  swinging  against  his  yellow  breeches,  and 
brought  the  huge  silver  spurs  of  his  tall  boots 
banging  against  the  floor,  he  would  hurl  the  ball 
down  the  alley.  Then  he  would  pose  like  Hamlet 
when  he  says,  "  To  be  or  not  to  be,"  and  wait  to 
see  the  result. 

Rudder,  on  the  other  hand,  rolled  into  range 
with  a  slovenly  waddle  and  discharged  his  missile 
without  further  ado.  Whish-sh-sh-sht,  bumpety- 
bump-bump-bump,  whir-r-r-r,  crash  !  Down  would 
go  the  nine-pins  —  never  less  than  six  —  gener 
ally  all  nine !  But  with  the  Personage  it  was 
not  so.  Had  he  been  drinking  augadente  —  who 
knows  ? 

I  picked  up  nine-pins  for  fully  an  hour. 
From  time  to  time  I  saw  a  pained  look  in  the 
Personage's  proud  face,  for  the  Personage  was 
playing  a  losing  game. 


SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE.        77 

When  the  hour  was  done,  Rudder  said,  "  Now 
colonel,  you  settle  with  the  Czar !  " 

"/ — how  you  say  a?  /paya  ze  gamo  ?  No, 
senor,  no  !  You  win,  you  paya  !  I  lose  ze  gamo. 
You  lose  ze  oro  —  how  you  saya  ?  —  ze  monee  !  " 

"No,  ye  don't,"  cried  Rudder.  "  Blowed  if 
ye  do  !  " 

"  Si,  senor.     How  you  say  ?  —  yes,  sirra  ! " 

"  Blast  ye  ? "  bawled  Rudder.  "  Pay  down  that 
cash  or  I'll  make  old  rags  out  o'  yer  rainbow  togs. 
Blowed  if  I  don't !  Hear  that,  Dago  ?" 

Now,  as  a  matter  of  solemn  fact,  the  Personage 
had  not  so  much  as  a  piastre  in  his  wallet.  He 
had  already  spent  his  last  copper  for  augadente  in 
the  pulparee. 

Rudder  was  not  uncommonly  quick  of  percep 
tion.  It  was  a  moment  before  he  fully  grasped 
the  enormity  of  the  outrage  the  Personage  had 
perpetrated  upon  him.  When  he  saw  through 
the  scheme,  he  boiled  with  wrath.  Before  he 
had  time  to  lay  into  the  Personage,  the  round- 
shouldered  proprietor  stuck  his  sallow  visage 
through  the  door  of  his  lair,  and  seeing  what  was 
up,  made  haste  to  insure  himself  against  fraud. 

He  expostulated  fiercely  with  Rudder  and 
the  Personage,  demanding  four  times  the  usual 
fee. 


78        SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE. 

"  Say,  old  boss,"  said  Rudder,  "  this  sunset 
dandy  here  won't  pay  down  the  cash  ;  an'  if  he 
don't,  I'll  shiver  his  blarsted  timbers,  b'gawsh  ! 
Hear  that,  ye  blasted  Dago  f  " 

The  Personage  puffed  his  cigarrito  in  silence. 

Rudder  gazed  at  his  enemy  a  second  in  unutter 
able  malice.  Then  he  swung  his  huge  palm  in 
air  and  brought  it  across  the  face  of  the  Per 
sonage  with  a  slam  that  knocked  that  worthy's 
cigarritto  clean  into  his  mouth,  light  and  all ! 

Now,  I  flatter  myself  that  my  wits  work  quicker 
than  Rudder  Simpson's.  In  an  instant  I  got  three 
different  views  of  the  situation.  First,  this  was 
a  den  of  robbers  and  the  Personage  was  a  decoy 
to  lead  us  into  peril,  the  provocation  being  raised 
by  him  to  induce  us  to  begin  the  fight  and  take 
the  consequence  if  ever  the  case  got  into  court. 
Second,  this  was  a  firstrdass  hotel,  but  full  of  the 
friends  of  the  Personage,  who  would  be  willing  to 
take  his  part  in  a  quarrel.  Third,  the  hotel  was 
well-nigh  deserted  because  of  the  bull-fight,  and 
therefore  there  would  be  few  witnesses  of  what 
might  presently  occur.  In  any  contingency,  the 
scene  of  the  battle  must  be  immediately  trans 
ferred  to  the  open  street. 

To  this  end  I  grabbed  the  Chileno's  green 
poncho,  slapped  him  on  the  head  with  it,  to 


SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE.         79 

attract  his  attention,  and  then  turned  and  ran 
like  a  gallied  whale. 

The  Personage  dashed  after  me,  Rudder 
Simpson  dashed  after  the  Personage,  and  the 
round-shouldered  alley-owner  dashed  after  Rudder 
Simpson.  I  led  my  excited  followers  a  swift  chase 
across  the  patio,  plunged  headlong  through  the 
posado  and  brought  up  in  the  street.  Once  there 
I  dropped  the  poncho,  and  just  as  I  did  so,  the 
agile  Simpson  landed  a  merciless  right-swing  on 
the  Chileno's  starboard  ear. 

Neither  the  stoop-shouldered  proprietor  nor  the 
eighteen-year-old  cabin-boy  cared  to  get  mixed  up 
in  the  row,  so  we  two  stood  well  back  from  the 
mill.  We  were  not  alone,  however,  for  the  battle 
was  no  more  than  joined  when  up  came  a  dozen 
sailors  from  various  ships  in  the  harbor. 

"  I  sy,"  bawled  a  ruddy  Cockney,  "  'ere's  a 
bloody  row  the  syme  as  a  bloody  bull-fight ! 
Wat's  on  ?  " 

"  'It  'im,  Yank,  'it  'im  bloomin'  'ard  !  " 

"Avast !  "  cried  a  Nan  tucket  whaleman.  "His 
chimney's  afire !  He's  spoutin'  blood !  It's  his 
flurry  !  " 

"No, 'taint;  he's  only  a  little  groggy.  There, 
my  hearties,  bring  the  claret  —  give  away, 
boys ! " 


80       SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE. 

"That's  right,  Jack,  you're  a  good  'un,  'eart 
an'  'and  !  " 

"  Watch  'ini,  watch  'im  !      There,  good  un  !  " 

By  this  time  the  Personage  had  lost  his  silk 
sash,  his  shirt  was  torn  open  from  shoulder  to  belt, 
and  his  hairless  head  was,  as  Dr.  Doyle  would  say, 
a  study  in  scarlet.  Eudder,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  still  in  prime  condition.  He  was  badly  out  of 
wind  and  he  had  a  lump  under  his  left  eye  like  a 
pigeon's  egg,  but  there  was  unlimited  fight  in  that 
huge,  lanky  frame  of  his.  He  made  a  furious  lead 
at  his  foe.  The  two  men  grappled  and  clinched. 
The  Spaniard  was  forced  to  the  wall. 

"  Give  it  to  him,  Yank  !  " 

"  Look  sharp,  Yank  ;  Vll  spur." 

And  spur  he  did.  That  was  what  he  had  been 
waiting  for.  He  jabbed  the  sharp  steel  rowel 
deep  into  the  calf  of  Rudder  Simpson's  leg  and 
ground  it  to  and  fro  in  the  wound. 

"  Down  killick  !  " 

"  Kill  the  Dago  !  " 

In  Rudder's  effort  to  escape  the  spur  he  had 
lost  his  balance,  and  the  two  desperate  men  fell 
to  the  earth  together. 

"  Bully  for  you  !  " 

"  Kill  'im,  Yank  !  " 

"  Don't  get  gallied  !  " 


SIMPSON,    MYSELF   AND    THE    PERSONAGE.        81 

But  best  he  could  do,  Rudder  was  forced  under. 

Then  I  heard  a  half-smothered  cry  :  "  Help  — 
quick  —  more  beef!"  The  Spaniard  was  biting 
Rudder  Simpson's  nose  ! ! 

I  sprang  to  the  rescue.  As  I  did  so,  a  dozen 
Chilenos  came  up  out  of  the  ground.  A  dozen 
more  dropped  down  from  the  sky.  I  battered  the 
Spaniard  with  both  fists  till  I  thought  I  had  killed 
him,  and  then  — 

Two  seconds  later  it  was  several  hours  after 
ward. 

I  opened  my  eyes —  or  rather,  my  eye,  for  one 
of  them  somehow  stayed  shut  —  and  observed 
important  changes  in  my  surroundings.  Four 
walls  had  closed  around  me.  A  low  couch  had 
worked  its  way  in  under  my  back.  A  heavy- 
raftered  roof  unaccountably  met  my  gaze.  In 
other  words,  I  had  been  carried  into  a  house  and 
rescued  from  the  blood-thirsty  Chilenos. 

It  was  night. 

I  took  in  the  situation  only  by  degrees.  A  dark- 
eyed  woman  was  sitting  at  the  foot  of  the  couch. 
She  was  brightly  clad,  and  she  had  a  brilliant 
shawl  thrown  over  her  shoulders.  Her  hair  hung 
in  two  heavy,  dark  braids.  The  woman  gazed 
across  the  room.  Her  attention  was  fixed  upon 
someone  speaking.  That  someone  knelt  before 


82        SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE. 

an  image  of  the   blessed  Virgin,  and  was  praying 
aloud  to  the  holy  Mother  of  God  ? 

I  had  never  heard  such  pathos  in  a  woman's 
voice.  It  was  the  agony  of  unanswered  prayer. 

It  was  a  sweet  voice.  The  woman  was  very 
young. 

I  could  not  understand  what  she  said,  but  I 
know  she  was  entreating  the  Maid  of  Galilee  to 
spare  my  life.  I  could  not  bear  to  see  the  woman 
so  sad ;  so  I  moved  gently  on  the  couch. 

"  Oh,  Inez  !  "  cried  the  mother. 

The  girl  sprang  from  her  knees.  The  two 
women  embraced  each  other  and  bent  over  me. 
Their  brown  eyes  shown  with  exultant  joy  ;  their 
hair  brushed  my  face. 

I  felt  like  a  person  suddenly  required  to  make 
a  speech.  I  had  been  saved  —  saved  from  the 
fury  of  a  blood-thirsty  mob  ;  these  women  had 
saved  me  —  I  owed  my  life  to  them  !  Oh,  how 
could  I  thank  them  enough  ?  I  tried  to  frame 
some  sort  of  expression  for  my  gratitude ;  but 
then  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  had  a  capital 
excuse  for  saying  absolutely  nothing  at  all.  I 
knew  not  a  single  word  of  Spanish. 

What  an  agreeable  relief  ! 

But  had  I  attempted  even  the  feeblest  sentence, 
it  would  inevitably  have  been  interrupted,  for  just 


SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE.        83 

then  there  was  a  deafening  uproar  in  the  street. 
I  could  hear  loud  cries.  The  words  were  Spanish. 
I  could  nevertheless  understand  one  word,  Ameri 
cano,  and  I  realized  that  I  was  the  person  so 
earnestly  held  in  request. 

Inez  rushed  to  the  windows  to  make  sure  that 
the  shutters  were  securely  barred.  As  she  did  so, 
she  left  a  pretty  picture  in  my  memory  —  her 
white  arms  outstretched,  her  head  thrown  back, 
her  hair  luxuriant  and  beautiful.  She  was  my 
guardian  angel. 

I  lifted  my  head  to  watch  her,  but  the  effort 
made  me  dizzy,  and  I  swooned  again. 

I  think  it  must  have  been  only  a  few  minutes 
before  I  was  myself  once  more,  but  when  I  next 
realized  the  possible  gravity  of  the  situation,  the 
mob  had  gone  and  we  were  for  the  moment  safe. 
Inez  sat  by  my  side,  stroking  my  hand  and  look 
ing  distractingly  lovely.  I  noticed  the  pungent 
odor  of  some  foreign  drug.  On  the  table  was  an 
open  flask. 

But  now  there  came  a  fresh  assault  upon  the 
street  door.  Again  I  heard  cries. 

Chilenos  f  No,  the  rabble  had  gone  their  way. 
Vigilantes  ?  No,  those  mounted  night  patrolmen 
were  apparently  quite  indifferent  to  the  fact  of 
my  existence.  The  voices  were  familiar  voices, 
and  the  words  were  English. 


84        SIMPSON,    MYSELF   AND   THE   PERSONAGE. 

"  Hi  there,  boy !  You  in  there,  you  rascal  ? 
Come,  turn  to !  None  o'  your  sogering !  Do 
you  hear  the  news  ?  Tumble  up,  lively  /  "  It 
was  the  old  man  ! 

I  shouted  back,  "  Spanish  folks  in  here.  Don't 
known  English.  Can't  tell  'em  to  open  the 
door !  " 

"  Open  it  yourself,  then,  you  leatherhead !  " 
That  was  unmistakably  the  mate's  voice. 

Now  my  preservers,  hearing  English  spoken 
and  realizing  that  the  men  on  the  doorstep  must 
be  acquaintances  of  mine,  or  at  all  events  no 
enemies,  else  I  should  have  been  afraid  to  answer, 
opened  the  door. 

In  strode  the  two  burly  men.  The  captain 
never  looked  so  big,  the  mate  was  never  so  surly. 

"  Well,"  the  old  man  observed  in  a  tone  of 
infinite  disgust,  "  here  you  are  with  your  head 
broke !  " 

My  head  was  not  exactly  "  broke,"  though  it 
was  by  no  means  attractively  embellished  by  my 
recent  battle  with  the  Personage.  I  had  a  gash 
about  an  inch  long  over  my  left  eye,  and  that 
luckless  optic  was  completely  closed  by  the  black 
ened  swelling. 

The  old  man  roared  at  me  with  such  thunderous 
ferocity  that  Inez  was  frightened.  She  seemed  to 


SIMPSON,    MYSELF   AND    THE   PERSONAGE.        85 

think  ray  destruction  was  now  a  matter  of  grim 
certainty.  She  threw  herself  upon  her  knees 
between  the  old  man  and  his  prey.  Her  mother 
at  the  same  time  seized  the  mate  by  the  collar. 
It  was  like  a  scene  in  a  melodrama ! 

I  found  the  gust  of  cool  night  air  from  the  open 
door  very  refreshing.  There  was  a  certain  ener 
gizing  property  also  in  the  old  man's  harsh  voice. 
I  rose  from  the  couch.  I  felt  so  much  better  that 
I  thought  I  could  walk  alone.  I  tried — yes,  I  could. 

My  first  impulse  was  to  kiss  Inez  (the  dear 
girl!);  but  it  occurred  to  me  she  would  hardly  like 
to  be  kissed  by  a  chap  with  a  broken  head  and  a 
game  eye.  I  found  it  somewhat  easier  to  refrain 
from  kissing  her  mother.  I  had  not  the  slightest 
temptation  to  kiss  the  old  man. 

As  it  was,  I  bowed,  and  waved  my  hand  in  a 
futile  sort  of  pantomime,  and  wished  with  all  my 
heart  I  could  put  my  farewell  into  words,  for  then 
I  should  have  made  Inez  promise  to  write  often. 
I  was  pitiably  conscious  of  figuring  in  an  awkward 
and  inglorious  attempt  at  sentiment.  It  was  as 
absurd  as  that  place  in  Fanny  Burney's  novel 
where  it  says,  "  They  both  wept,  curtseyed  and 
withdrew." 

Very  little  was  said  about  the  affair,  however, 
as  we  three  Americanos  returned  to  the  Swift. 


86        SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE. 

Of  course  I  was  wriggling  with  curiosity  to  know 
what  in  creation  had  become  of  Rudder  Simpson 
and  the  Personage.  I  wanted  to  know,  too,  what 
had  been  the  result  of  the  fight  and  the  subse 
quent  riot.  I  suppose  it  was  part  of  the  old 
man's  vengeful  design  to  keep  me  in  ignorance 
of  the  facts. 

Next  day,  as  I  rose  from  my  bunk,  I  was  seized 
with  a  sudden  fit  of  dizziness  —  from  loss  of  blood, 
the  old  man  said  —  and  in  consequence  I  was 
ordered  to  remain  in  bed  all  day. 

I  have  always  supposed  that  that  was  done  in 
malice.  The  old  man  babied  me  there  in  port  as 
you  never  saw  him  baby  me  at  sea. 

I  spent  that  day  imagining  all  possible  and 
impossible  outcomes  of  the  affray.  I  sent  Rudder 
to  jail,  had  him  tried  for  bloody  murder  and  shot 
like  a  dog.  I  visited  a  similiar  fate  upon  the  Per 
sonage.  I  even  congratulated  myself  that  it  had 
not  been  my  own  lot  to  leave  my  bones  in  the 
Potter's  Field  at  Talcahuano.  Over  and  over  I 
turned  the  story  till  it  became  a  sort  of  waking 
nightmare,  growing  constantly  more  and  more 
hideous.  I  have  heard  of  the  fashionable  woman 
who  said  she  couldn't  go  to  Europe  because  she  was 
reading  seventeen  serial  stories.  My  own  interest 
in  this  Chileno  romance  was  hardly  less  keen. 


SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE.        87 

The  day  passed  uneventfully,  but  late  that 
evening  a  shout  went  ringing  through  the  ship, 
calling  all  hands.  All  hands !  And  in  port ! 
what  possible  emergency  could  occasion  such  an 
appeal  to  force  as  that  ? 

I  leaped  from  my  bunk,  grabbed  hastily  for 
boots  and  trousers,  pulled  them  on  in  a  jiffy,  and 
dashed  up  the  cabin  stairs.  It  was  bright  as  day 
only  it  was  a  horrible,  yellow-red  light.  All  was 
confusion  on  deck.  Orders  were  given  in  quick 
succession.  All  hands  were  needed  to  save  the 
ship.  I  sprang  up  the  ratlines  with  the  rest.  I 
heard  a  voice  say,  "  She's  the  Ganges,  shipmates, 
the  Ganges,  poor  barky  !  "  He  was  right.  Off 
to  windward  lay  the  handsome,  well-found,  full- 
rigged  ship  Ganges  of  Fall  River,  swathed  in  a 
shroud  of  flames. 

In  my  excitement  I  obeyed  orders  automati 
cally,  not  stopping  to  consider  the  meaning  of 
the  words  I  acted  upon.  Somehow  I  had  got 
the  hollow  of  my  feet  set  upon  the  foot-rope  and 
my  arms  flung  over  the  particular  yard  assigned 
me  as  my  post  of  honor.  I  could  see  the  Ganges 
ablaze  from  stem  to  waist.  A  man  at  my  right 
was  doing  precisely  what  I  was  doing,  waiting  for 
a  bucket  to  be  passed  to  him.  The  man  had  a 
white  nose.  It  was  covered  with  sticking  plaster. 


88        SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE. 

u  Why,  Rudder,"  I  exclaimed,  "I  didn't  know 
you  were  alive  !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  imperturbable  Simpson. 
"  Nose  in  a  sling,  but  still  seaworthy.  Rigged  up 
jury-nose  —  see  ?  " 

The  fire  burst  through  the  Ganges  main-hatch, 
sending  up  a  fountain  of  rushing,  soaring,  spread 
ing,  fluttering  red  sparks.  They  scattered  out 
over  the  sky.  They  fell  in  hot  showers  upon  a 
score  of  anchored  ships.  Every  endangered  ves 
sel  had  men  aloft. 

Buckets  were  passed  from  tarry  hand  to  tarry 
hand.  We  drenched  the  masts  and  yards  and 
sails  and  rigging. 

"  Why  in  the  name  o'  sea-sense,  don't  somebody 
scuttle  the  old  hooker  ?" 

"  'Fraid  to." 

"4  Don't  wonder  ;  no  fun  to  go  below  in  a  blazin' 
butter-box — resky,  blamed  resky.  But  why  in 

blazes  don't Oh,  look,  boy,  look  !  clap  yer 

for'ard  lights  on  that —  they  done  it  a' ready  !  " 

So  they  had.  The  old  ballahoo  settled  away, 
like  a  spaded  shark,  and  went  hissing  to  the 
bottom,  only  her  blazing  masts  still  stuck  out  of 
the  water. 

"  Good,"  said  Rudder,  "  bully  for  every  man 
Jack  of  'em  !  " 


SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE.        89 

Those  various  men  Jacks  were  at  that  time 
afloat  in  their  whale-boats,  and  now  they  made  for 
a  ship  near  by.  The  light  had  nearly  faded  away, 
but  we  could  still  see  them.  In  fact,  we  could 
see  the  whole  Bay  of  Conception,  and  the  "  long, 
black  land"  six  miles  away  across  the  harbor. 

"Well,"  said  Rudder,  "  s'pose  the  old  man'll 
keep  us  a-soakin'  this  here  riggin'  a  good  haour 
more,  blast  'im !  " 

"Then,  Rudder,"  said  I,  "tell  me  how  that 
fight  came  out.  I  don't  know  a  thing  that  hap 
pened  after  I  was  hit." 

"  Well,"  said  Rudder,  "  'tain't  no  great  twister. 
Chilenos  an'  mobs  an'  Dago  police,  an'  the  steward 
o'  that  there  Ganges,  that's  jest  naow  a-bunkin' 
in  Granny's  wash-tub  there,  stuck  in  his  blazin' 
innards  an'  took  to  the  haw-spittle,  an'  not  a 
blamed  stitch  o'  liberty  for  them  sweet,  lob-lolly 
boys  sence  !  Them's  the  facts,  boy." 

"  And  what  do  you  think  now  of  that  big 
Chileno  Personage -- duke,  baron,  earl  —  some 
such  nabob  ?  " 

"Not  by  a  jugfull !  That  there  rainbow  dandy, 
so  says  Slush  Dooley  (an'  he's  knocked  araoun' 
Talky-wanno  nigh  onto  a  twelve-month),  that 
there  rainbow  dandy,  says  he,  why,  he's  just  a 
darned  old  farmer.  Them  togs  is  what  they  wear 


90        SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE. 

up-country.  Blow  all  their  cash  on  their  jeans  ! 
An'  I  tell  you,  boy,  they  ain't  no  true  piosity  in 
splicin'  elbows  with  Dago  strangers  —  not  of  a 
Sunday,  no,  sir  —  not  if  the  court  knows  herself, 
an'  (feeling  of  his  plastered  nose,  and  glancing 
mournfully  at  my  bandaged  head  and  blackened 
eye)  she  thinks  she  do  !  " 

We  finally  bade  adieu  to  the  beautiful  islands 
of  the  South  Pacific  ocean,  and  began  our  home 
ward  voyage.  We  had  a  fair  passage  to  the  Cape, 
but  as  we  neared  that  point  of  storms  and  gales, 
the  days  grew  shorter  and  the  weather  more 
boisterous.  When  we  ran  to  the  eastward,  we 
encountered  heavy  gales,  with  a  tremendous  sea 
running.  Although  the  gales  were  a  fair  wind 
for  us,  the  old  man  did  not  run  nights,  as  the  ship 
was  deeply  laden  with  oil,  and  he  was  afraid  of 
losing  our  boats  or  having  our  decks  swept  by  the 
sea  washing  over  us.  We  hove  to  several  nights, 
and  on  one  of  these  nights  we  lost  a  man  over 
board.  Thanks  to  the  tireless  exertions  of  the 
crew,  he  was  saved  from  a  watery  grave.  He 
had  been  sent  aloft  to  loose  the  fore-top-sail 
during  the  night  and  was  stepping  from  the  top 
sail  yard  to  the  rigging,  when  the  ship  fetched  a 
heavy  roll  to  the  windward.  He  missed  his  hold 
and  fell  into  the  sea ;  but  as  he  was  to  windward, 


SIMPSON,    MYSELF    AND    THE    PERSONAGE.        91 


92        SIMPSON,    MYSELF   AND   THE    PERSONAGE. 

the  sea  washed  him  up  to  the  side  of  the  vessel, 
The  night  was  very  clear  and  the  moon  was  full, 
so  we  could  see  the  huge  waves  wash  him  up  the 
ship's  side  and  the  receding  wave,  or  undertow, 
take  him  away  —  sometimes  fifty  feet  away.  It 
would  have  been  folly  to  attempt  to  lower  a  boat 
at  that  time.  There  was,  however,  only  one  other 
thing  to  do,  and  that  we  did.  The  men  tied  ropes 
around  their  bodies  and  hung  over  the  side  to 
grasp  him  if  possible.  After  a  while  a  sailor 
caught  him  by  his  foot,  but  his  boot  came  off  and 
we  were  almost  ready  to  give  him  up  as  lost.  Yet 
in  a  short  time  he  was  seen  again,  and  was  thrown 
to  the  side.  Just  at  that  moment  one  of  our  men 
seized  him  by  the  arm,  and  with  help  got  him  on 
board.  The  poor  fellow  was  nearly  done  for, 
but  by  rubbing  him,  and  wrapping  him  in  warm 
blankets,  and  giving  him  hot  drinks,  we  saved 
him.  I  have  hinted  at  this  story  before.  This 
was  the  man  Townsend  who  tried  to  desert  us  at 
the  Navigator  Islands. 


THE  CAST-AWAY. 


Alone,  alone  ;  all,  all  alone  ! 
Alone  on  a  wide,  wide  sea  !  " 

—  Ancient  Mariner. 


TRISTAN  DE  ACUNHA- ALMOST  A  WRECK. 


1  As  beautiful  Xancy  was  walkin'  one  dy, 

She  met  a  young  sylor,  all  hon  the  'igh-wy, 
'E  stept  up  beside  'er,  and  to  'er  did  sy, 
O  ware  hare  ye  goin',  tell  me  pretty  myde  ?  " 


"  BULLY  good !  "  shouted  a  dozen  gruff  voices, 
"  You  sing  like  a  gen'leman  o'  forshun  !  Take 
'nother  turn  around  the  capstan  an'  give  us  nex' 
versh !  " 

"  Close-reef,  first."  replied  the  Cockney  singer. 
"Ware's  the  bloody  bottle?  'Ere,  Weatherface, 
—  the  bottle,  you  lubber  !  " 

The  British  tar  threw  back  his  burly  head  and 
took  an  observation  through  his  tumbler.  He 
glanced  round  expectantly  upon  the  crowd  of 
whalemen,  awaiting  a  more  distinct  encore. 

"  Nex'  versh  !  "  roared  Weatherface,  making 
the  low  coral  walls  re-echo,  "  Nex'  versh !  " 
Then  they  all  shouted  together,  a  Go  on,  Jack ! 
Go  on !  " 


94  THE    CAST-AWAY. 

So  Jack  Burkett  took  up  his  song  again,  sitting 
astride  the  canoe's  bows  in  that  abandoned  boat- 
house,  the  light  from  a  single  lantern  streaming 
warm  and  yellow  in  his  hard  face  while  he 
sang,  — 


As  beautiful  Nancy  was  walkin'  one  dy, 

She  met  a  young  sylor,  all  hon  the  'igh-wy, 
'E  stept  up  beside  her,"  — 


"Avast!  Avast!"  bawled  Mattapoisett  Joe, 
fc Avast !  you  boozy  lime-juicer,  you've  sung 
that  verse  a 'ready.  You're  half-seas  over,  lad. 
You  're  drunk  as  old  Weatherface." 

"  'Old  on,  ye  bloody  Yank  !  Hif  ye  don't  like 
me  bloody  chanty,  then  just  ye  sing  us  a  bloody 
chanty  as  ye  do  like." 

"  The  bottle,"  said  Mattapoisett  Joe,  with  a 
bland  smile.  "  Will  my  brave  friend  Weatherface 
kindly  pass  me  the  bottle  ?  First  I'll  splice  the 
main-brace,  and  then  I'll  sing,  as  requested. 
Come,  my  bullies,  we  '11  all  drink  together  !  Fill 
up  your  glasses  —  how  's  this  for  a  toast  ?  — 


1  Be  cheery,  my  lads  !    May  your  hearts  never  fail, 
While  the  bold  harpooneer  is  a-striking  the  whale  !  * 


There,    clink    your     glasses !  —  now    shoot    the 
sun!" 


THE    CAST-AWAY.  95 

Up  went  twenty  chins  in  air.  Down  went 
twenty  scalding  gulps  of  New  England  rum. 

Mattapoisett  set  his  empty  tumbler  on  the 
coral  window-sill,  leaned  heavily  against  the  wall, 
folded  his  brawny  arms,  and  began,  —  his  round, 
mellow  baritone  filling  the  boat-house  with  a  fine, 
vibrant  melody.  It  was  a  voice  that  would  have 
been  worthy  of  applause  in  better  company. 


When  sunk  deep  in  sleep  on  the  ocean, 
'Neath  southern  skies'  brilliant  blue  dome, 
In  fancy  I  hear  the  trees  rustle, 
That  shaded  my  window  at  home. 
I  hear  the  flocks  bleat  in  the  meadows, 
The  cries  of  the  men  to  their  teams, 
But  dearer  to  me  are  the  many 
Loved  faces  I  see  in  my  dreams.' ' 


"  Good,  good,  good !  "  they  shouted,  Britons 
and  Yankees  alike.  Mattapoisett  Joe  had  chosen 
the  one  song  that  would  soften  every  heart,  the 
"  one  touch  of  nature "  that  would  make  the 
whole  sailor-world  kin.  He  took  up  the  second 
verse  :  — 


First  rises  the  old  chimney  corner, 

And  then  my  dear  father  I  see, 

Whose  pride  ties  are  over,  are  over, 

His  children  to  have  on  his  knee. 

And  then  by  the  bunk-board  stands  mother, 

With  eyes  full  of  sweet,  loving  joy, 

Who,  ere  going  to  rest,  bends  to  offer 

A  prayer  for  her  poor  sailor  boy." 


96  THE    CAST-AWAY. 

Had  the  light  from  the  lantern  been  a  very 
little  brighter,  all  hands  might  have  beheld  real 
tears  welling  up  in  the  eyes  of  Jack  Weatherface, 
but  whether  his  tender  sentimentality  was  due  to 
musical  responsiveness,  or  to  an  affectionate  dis 
position,  or  to  a  guilty  conscience,  or  to  the 
effects  of  New  England  rum,  no  fellow  can  say  for 
certain.  His  feelings,  however,  were  those  of  the 
whole  company.  The  song  had  found  their 
hearts. 

Mattapoisett  sang  on,  with  a  half  perceptible 
quiver  in  his  voice  :  — 

"All  changeless  beside  me  is  standing, 
A  sweet  girl  I  know,  oh  so  well  ! 
A  voice  murmurs,  '  Break  not  your  promise, 
You  made  in  the  green,  leafy  dell ! ' 
Now  she's  gone  ;  and  I  start  from  my  pillow, 
Aroused  by  the  sea-birds'  wild  screams, 
And  I'm  far,  far  away  from  those  loved  ones, 
Whose  faces  I  see  in  my  dreams  ! " 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence. 

Then  "  Bravo  !  Bravo !  "  burst  from  the  throats 
of  the  whalemen. 

The  low  rafters  shook  with  their  applause.  Six 
tumblers  were  smashed  in  the  uproar,  and  the 
sashing  was  knocked  clean  out  of  the  window- 
frame. 

"  Come/'  said  Mattapoisett,  "  Curse  the  doleful 
chanty !  Let's  take  a  cruise  around  the  old 


TITE    CAST-AWAY.  97 

French  town  !  There's  a  bottle  half-full.  Put  it 
under  the  canoe.  When  we  come  back  we'll 
finish  it  off,  and  then  well  be  half-full,  eh,  my 
hearties  ?  " 

With  that  the  twenty  ruffians  burst  through 
the  door,  —  all  but  one,  the  English  cooper,  who, 
for  half-inebriated  reasons  of  his  own,  preferred 
to  remain  behind  in  the  boat-house. 

Now  the  palm  wooded  summit  of  "  Mt.  Blanc," 
looking  down  from  the  altitude  of  three  thousand 
feet,  has  seen  many  a  wild  time  in  old  Victoria. 
Often  and  often  has  the  little  island  of  Mahe, 
though  biggest  of  all  the  Seychelles,  been  fairly 
made  to  shake  under  the  riotous  revelling  of 
whaling  crews  ashore.  But  of  all  the  fierce  nights, 
this  black  and  starless  evening  was  among  the 
fiercest ;  and  of  all  the  disorderly  gangs  ashore  on 
Mahe,  these  Yankees  of  mine  and  these  British 
tars  from  the  "  lime-juicer  "  were  far  to  the  fore. 

"  You  know  the  old  saw,  ship-mates,"  sang  out 
Mattapoisett  Joe,  "  We  must  all  hang  together  or 
we'll  all  hang  separately  !  " 

"Aye-aye,"  said  Jack  Burkett,  "  splice  helbows 
heverybody.  Hey,  my  lively  'earties.  Splice 
helbows  hall  'ands  !  " 

And  so  they  did;  nineteen  tipsy  sailors  all  lock 
ing  arms  and  careering  wildly  through  the  town. 


98  THE    CAST-AWAY. 

They  danced  around  a  gens  d'armes,  they  over 
turned  a  fruiterer's  truck,  they  smashed  a 
dozen  windows,  and  they  kissed  all  the  girls  they 
could  find  on  the  streets.  Then  they  locked  arms 
once  more,  and  charged  down  the  main  avenue  of 
Victoria  on  their  way  back  to  the  boat-house. 

"  Half  bottle  leff  !  "  gurgled  poor,  old  Weather- 
face.  "Splice  main  brace,  —  brace  main  splice, — 
close-reef !  " 

As  has  already  been  intimated,  the  cooper  of 
the  English  whaleship,  though  absent,  had  not 
been  made  conspicuous  by  his  absence.  Now, 
however,  as  the  rollicking  party  tumbled  into  the 
boat-house  again,  the  cooper  became  shockingly 
conspicuous  by  his  presence. 

He  lay  stretched  out  in  the  canoe,  like  the 
Lady  of  Shalott,  and  he  was  quite  as  unconscious 
as  that  unfortunate  celebrity.  Beside  him  lay 
the  bottle  (  a  "  dead  soldier  "  )  entirely  empty. 

At  first  sight  of  so  horrid  a  spectacle  a  howl  of 
dismay  went  up  from  the  crowd. 

"Blast  his  toppy  blood-lights!"  roared 
Weatherface.  "  How'll  we  main  splice-brace 
now  ?  " 

"Curse  the  cooper,"  said  Burkett,  "we'll 
cooper  'im;  we'll  put  the  'oops  on  'imj  we'll 
'amrner  'is  styves  !  "  , 


THE    CAST-AWAY.  99 

But  Mattapoisett  was  the  recognized  ring 
leader.  "  Avast !  "  he  cried,  "  See  all  clear ! 
Shove  them  big  doors  open !  We  '11  do  for 
the  son  of  a  sea-cook  !  We  '11  do  for  him  hand 
some  !  Bear  a  hand  there,  my  bully  chummies, 
handsomely !  Cheerily !  Now,  shipmates,  all 
together !  " 

With  that  the  ruffians  seized  hold  of  the 
cooper's  canoe,  rushed  it  swiftly  down  the  beach, 
and  launched  it  out  into  the  darkness  and  the 
night. 

Then  they  staggered  back  into  their  lair,  shut 
the  big  doors,  laid  in  a  new  bottle  of  "  close- 
reef,"  drank  the  health  of  the  cast-away  cooper, 
and  toasted  his  many  virtues. 

They  topped  off  the  barrel-smith's  obsequies 
with  that  ghastly  sailor-song  since  made  famous 
by  Stevenson  : 

"  Fifteen  men  on  the  dead  man's  chest, 
Yo-ho-ho,  and  a  bottle  of  rum." 

"Rum,  rum,  rum,  an'  bottle  o'  ho -ho!"  mut 
tered  the  hilarious  Weatherface.  "  Let  by-gones 
be  'gones  !  Somebody  sing  sholly  janty !  " 

Burkett,  so  merry  that  he  had  quite  forgotten 
his  somewhat  recent  discomfiture,  called  lustily 
for  a  chanty  from  Mattapoisett  Joe.  The  whole 
crowd  took  up  the  cry. 


100  THE    CAST-AWAY. 

It  was  really  wonderful  what  a  cargo  Matta- 
poisett  could  carry.  He  was  a  little  uncertain  in 
his  steps,  and  he  had  an  air  of  general  inaccuracy 
that  shook  one's  faith  in  his  mental  stability,  yet 
his  tongue  had  not  forgotten  its  cunning. 

The  song  as  a  song  was  a  genuine  triumph. 
Ah,  yes  ;  but  the  selection  was  most  unfortunate. 
It  was  entitled  "  The  Sailor's  Grave,"  and  ran  like 
this :  — 

"  Our  bark  was  far,  far  from  the  land, 
When  the  fairest  of  our  gallant  band, 
Grew  deadly  pale  and  weaned  away, 
Like  the  twilight  hours  of  an  autumn  day. 
We  watched  him  through  long  hours  of  pain  ; 
Our  cares  were  great,  our  hopes  in  vain. 
At  death's  stroke  he  showed  no  coward  alarms, 
But  smiled  and  died  in  his  messmates'  arms. 

"  We  had  no  costly  winding-sheet, 
We  placed  two-pound  shot  at  his  feet  ; 
He  lay  in  his  hammock  as  snug  and  proud 
As  a  king  in  his  long  robe,  marble  bound. 
We  proudly  decked  his  funeral  vest, 
With  the  stars  and  stripes  across  his  breast  — 
We  gave  him  these  as  a  badge  of  the  brave, 
And  then  he  was  fit  for  a  sailor's  grave. 

"Our voices  failed,  our  hearts  grew  weak, 
Hot  tears  were  seen  on  brownest  cheek, 
A  quiver  played  on  the  lip  of  pride, 
As  we  lowered  him  over  the  ship's  dark  side. 
A  plunge,  and  a  splash,  and  it  all  was  o'er, 
The  billows  rolled  as  they  rolled  before  ; 
But  many  a  wild  prayer  hallowed  the  wave, 
As  he  sank  to  rest  in  a  sailor's  grave." 

It  may  seem  strange  till  you  stop  to  think  of  it, 
but  no  applause  rewarded  the  song.  Each  man 


THE    CAST-AWAY.  101 

had  solemn  and  guilty  thoughts  in  his  heart,  which 
were  roused  into  terrible  activity  by  Burkett's 
ill-chosen  chanty.  Yet  no  one  spoke.  The  men 
were  squatting  on  the  boat-house  floor,  leaning 
lazily  against  the  white  walls.  The  yellow 
lantern  was  smoking  dismally. 

At  this  junction,  so  ominous  of  sullen  resent 
ment  and  its  possible  result  in  blows,  if  not 
bloodshed,  a  sudden  interruption  changed  the 
scene  abruptly. 

There  was  a  loud  rapping  on  the  door  and  cries 
of  "  Ouvrez  la  porte,  ouvrez  aux  gens  d'armes, 
vous  etes  nos  prisonniers  !  Place  aux  officiers  !  " 

A  dozen  uniformed  Frenchmen,  armed  to  the 
teeth,  dashed  into  the  boat-house  ;  great  con 
fusion  ensued ;  several  pistol-shots  were  fired  into 
the  air  ;  there  were  grapplings  and  blows  here 
and  there ;  and  then  the  biggest  of  the  gens 
d'armes,  no  doubt  a  sort  of  prefect  of  police, 
screamed  out  in  broken  English,  a  Silence  !  Je 
command  silence  ;  you  think  you  pouvez  raise  le 
diable  in  zis  place !  You  think  you  pouvez 
embrace  tons  les  dames !  I  tell  you  non,  non, 
NON,  messieurs!  " 

Amazed  at  the  brilliant  behavior  of  the  prefect, 
the  whalemen  u  came  to  order."  In  an  instant 
the  boathouse  seemed  transformed  from  a  field 
of  battle  to  a  court  of  justice. 


102  THE    CAST-AWAY. 

Mattapoisett  pleaded  for  the  whole  crowd, 
urging  that  his  followers  were  a  well-meaning 
lot  of  lads ;  gentle  little  things,  you  know,  and 
very  young  ;  and  that  they  were  not  altogether 
familiar  with  the  customs  of  Mahe,  and  had 
offended  unwittingly.  How  were  an  innocent 
crew  of  foreigners  to  know  that  the  ladies  of 
Victoria  objected  to  being  promiscuously  kissed  ? 
In  New  Bedford,  he  insisted,  it  was  so  different. 
They  were  very,  very  sorry,  and  would  never, 
never,  never  disturb  the  island  again. 

The  upshot  of  the  matter  was  that  the  drunken 
sailors  were  all  shipped  off  to  the  whalers  in  the 
harbor;  and,  thanks  to  Mattapoisett' s  logic  and 
rhetoric,  no  arrests  were  made.  However  a  gens 
d'armes  came  aboard  the  Hope  to  notify  me  that 
my  crew  had  received  an  official  reprimand,  and 
from  the  Hope  he  went  directly  to  the  captain  of 
the  lime  juicer. 

"  Ciel!"  he  said,  "Vos  holmes,  ne  sont-ils  pas 
mechants  ?" 

Now,  when  the  English  officers  counted  noses 
next  morning,  they  found  many  a  grog-blossorned 
bill,  but  there  were  not  quite  bills  enough  to  suit 
them.  Some  one  was  missing. 

There  was  no  cooper  to  be  found  amongst  the 
crew  ! 


THE    CAST-AWAY.  103 

Apparently  the  cooper  had  deserted ;  or  was  it 
not  possible  that  he  had  been  arrested  and  jailed 
for  participation  in  the  night's  disturbances  ?  In 
either  case  there  was  but  one  thing  to  do  —  appeal 
to  the  authorities  on  shore. 

This  the  bold  Briton  reluctantly  did,  hating 
above  all  things  to  ask  a  favor  of  a  Frenchman. 
At  the  same  time  he  sent  off  a  boat  to  call  at 
every  ship  in  the  harbor  and  request  that  diligent 
search  for  the  missing  cooper  be  made  on  board. 
The  day  went  by ;  the  whole  island  and  the 
whole  harbor  were  searched  with  the  utmost  care ; 
but  the  lost  sheep  could  nowise  be  brought  back 
into  the  fold. 

A  council  extraordinary  met  in  the  forecastle  of 
of  the  lime  juicer  that  afternoon  and  chose  Jack 
Burkett  as  their  unwilling  spokesman,  deputing 
him  to  proceed  to  the  quarter-deck  and  to  render 
to  the  captain  a  full  and  complete  confession  of 
their  manifold  sins  and  wickednesses,  neither  dis 
sembling  nor  cloaking  them,  but  acknowledging 
them  all  "  with  an  humble,  lowly,  penitent  and 
obedient  heart." 

So  Burkett  went  aft  upon  the  hateful  errand. 
He  told  the  whole  disgraceful  story -- nineteen 
sailors  crazy  with  rum,  the  English  cooper  set 
adrift  in  an  oarless  and  paddleless  canoe,  and  a 
strong  tide  running  out  to  the  ocean. 


104  THE    CAST-AWAY. 

Rage  like  that  of  a  frenzied  demon  blazed  from 
the  old  man's  tough  countenance.  He  swore  a 
volley  of  terrible  curses. 

But  as  soon  as  he  came  to  himself  he  realized 
that  not  a  moment  was  to  be  lost  in  the  mere 
indulgence  of  righteous  wrath ;  so,  calling  "'Hall 
'ands  "  aft,  he  detailed  the  men  to  various  duties 
in  rescue  service. 

The  mast-heads  were  to  be  manned  directly. 
Two  boats  were  to  spread  the  news  through  the 
harbor  and  ask  assistance  in  the  name  of  human 
ity.  The  other  boats  were  to  sail  and  row  out  to 
sea  as  far  as  they  dared  and  with  all  speed,  keep 
ing  wide  apart,  to  cover  as  large  an  area  as 
possible,  and  search  for  the  cooper's  canoe. 

I  gladly  lent  my  services  in  so  imperative  an 
enterprise.  I  was  the  more  eager  to  help  find  the 
cooper  because,  years  and  years  before,  I  had  seen 
a  cooper  buried  at  sea,  and  my  sympathies  were 
touched  and  my  fears  aroused  by  the  recollection 
of  that  pitiful  scene.  Was  the  poor  English 
barrel-smith  to  be  lost  in  the  deep,  buried  in  its 
restless  waters,  and  not  to  be  honored  with  even 
the  formal  reading  of  a  written  service  ? 

It  is  strange  with  what  vividness  such  impres 
sions  live  in  one's  memory,  and  upon  what  slender 
grounds  of  suggestion  they  rise  anew  into  activity. 


THE    CAST- A  WAY.  105 

It  seemed  but  as  yesterday  that  we  had  left  Talcu- 
huano  for  a  cruise  on  the  coast  of  Chili,  and  we 
were  only  a  few  days  from  port  when  our  cooper 
fell  violently  ill.  We  were  within  a  day's  sail  of 
Valparaiso,  so  the  old  man  steered  for  that  port 
and  went  on  shore  for  medical  advice.  He 
returned  with  some  medicine,  but  it  proved  of 
no  avail.  Next  day  the  cooper  died.  We  kept 
him  till  the  following  afternoon,  and  then  we 
buried  him. 

At  four  o'clock  the  ship's  headway  was  stopped, 
the  stars  and  stripes  flung  out  at  half-mast,  and  all 
hands  called  to  bury  the  dead.  Wrapped  in  his 
blanket  and  sewed  in  strong  canvas,  with  a  bag  of 
sand  ballast  at  his  feet,  the  dead  man's  body  was 
brought  to  the  waist  and  laid  gently  on  the  gang 
way  board.  As  the  captain  read  the  solemn 
service,  the  men  uncovered  and  bowed  their  heads. 
At  the  words  "  We  commit  his  body  to  the  deep," 
the  pall-bearers  lifted  the  body  slowly  at  the  head  ; 
and  then  —  all  that  remained  to  us  of  our  ship 
mate  was  the  pleasant  memory  he  left  behind  him, 
for  he  had  always,  been  a  favorite  among  our  crew. 
So  we  left  him  to  his  peaceful,  dreamless  sleep, 
"  there  to  await  the  general  resurrection  in  the 
last  day."  That  night  I  read  with  a  better 
understanding  the  cheering  words  of  the  Apostle, 


106 


THE    CAST-AWAY. 


THE    CAST-AWAY.  107 

"  This  mortal  shall  put  on  immortality."  (You 
didn't  know  they  had  Bibles  on  whale-ships?  Yes? 
they  do ;  and  what's  more,  they  read  them.)  I 
had  witnessed  many  burials  on  shore,  but  none 
had  ever  impressed  itself  so  indelibly  upon  my 
mind  as  this  solemn  burial  at  sea. 

Nor  was  this  the  only  tragical  recollection  that 
haunted  my  mind  as  we  joined  in  that  heart 
breaking  search  for  the  castaway. 

For  my  thoughts  went  out  to  a  certain  place 
upon  the  northern  end  of  Bird  Island,  one  of  this 
same  Seychelles  Group  —  a  spot  I  have  ever  since 
called  the  mournfullest  as  well  as  the  most  deso 
late  place  in  the  whole  world.  There,  grouped 
together  upon  a  lonely,  sun-beaten  flat,  whose 
stillness  is  broken  only  by  the  heavy,  rolling  surf 
that  dashes  on  the  shore,  are  the  graves  of  a  dozen 
sailors  who  have  been  buried  from  whale-ships 
cruising  around  those  banks  for  whales. 

Once  more  I  seemed  to  be  standing  alone 
among  those  uncared-for  graves,  and  looking 
out.  across  the  waste  of  waters  toward  the  distant 
home,  thinking  I  could  see  some  poor  mother 
waiting  and  longing  and  watching,  and  at  last  so 
grievously  disappointed  ;  or  perhaps  a  wife  and 
her  little  children,  enduring  prolonged  separation 
from  the  one  best  loved  of  all,  because  they  are 


108  THE    CAST-AWAY. 

saying,    "  It  can't  be  much  longer,   dearie,  —  it 
cant  be  much  longer !  " 

Then  was  this  poor  English  cooper  to  be  denied 
even  so  desolate  a  resting-place  as  the  sailor's 
cemetery  on  Bird  Island  ? 

And  who  -  -  I  could  not  help  asking  —  who 
would  be  the  broken-hearted  ones  at  home  ? 
Who  would  listen  with  grief  and  with  tears  to 
the  shameful  story  of  the  drunken  castaway  and 
his  tragical  end  ?  Oh,  there  would  be  sorrow  and 
mourning  in  that  little  English  hamlet  on  the 
Devonshire  coast !  Not  tonight,  nor  tomorrow 
night ;  but  a  whole  year  hence,  it  might  be,  or 
even  longer,  when  the  tale  would  be  told  at  home 
by  the  very  men  who  had  sent  the  cooper  to  his 
doom. 

Darkness  settled  like  a  pall  upon  our  dishearten 
ing  enterprise.  The  stars,  blazing  down  from 
that  southern  sky,  glared  pitiless  and  cruel.  The 
moon  —  red,  sullen,  mockingly  splendid  —  rose 
out  of  the  ocean  and  made  a  broad,  straight  path 
to  the  horizon.  (Out  upon  that  path,  the  men 
said,  the  cooper's  canoe  had  gone.)  "  Mt.  Blanc  " 
loomed  black  in  the  far  distance.  We  could  still 
see  the  lights  on  the  ships  in  the  harbor,  though 
the  lights  of  the  town  had  already  sunk  into 
the  sea. 


THE    CAST-AWAY.  109 

At  last  we  turned  back  and  went  aboard  the 
whalers.  We  had  satisfied  ourselves  that  the 
cooper  had  ere  this  met  his  death. 

There  was  grief  and  remorse  aboard  the  Hope. 
Half  our  men  had  murder  written  red  across 
their  souls. 

All  the  next  day  the  crew  brooded  and  repented 
and  growled.  There  were  no  songs  in  the  fore 
castle.  There  was  no  mention  of  "  The  Sailor's 
Grave."  There  was  no  allusion  to  faces  seen  in 
dreams.  They  had  all  seen  the  same  face.  Nor 
was  there  any  inclination  to  go  ashore.  The  town 
was  a  haunted  town,  the  boat-house  a  haunted 
house.  The  men  longed  to  leave  port.  In  the 
changeless  routine  of  sailing  or  the  adventurous 
vicissitudes  of  whale-hunting,  they  could  forget 
their  crime. 

And  so  even  the  third  day  went  by  much  as 
had  the  others  before  it,  though  there  was  a  lively 
scuffle  in  the  forecastle  late  that  afternoon.  Mat- 
tapoisett  Joe  was  knocked  down  and  jumped  upon 
by  three  of  his  shipmates. 

When  I  looked  into  the  matter  I  found  that 
Mattapoisett  had  been  assaulted  as  a  punishment 
for  —  what  do  you  think  ?  —  whistling  !  A  trivial 
offense,  you  say.  Yes,  but  listen. 

"  You  can't  blame  us,  sir,''  said  Weatherface, 
when  all  hands  had  been  called  aft  for  the  investi- 


110  THE    CAST-AWAY. 

gation.     "He    was   whistling    the    tune    of    that 
devilish  song, — 


"  'Fifteen  men  on  the  dead  man's  chest, 
Yo-  ho  -  ho,  and  a  bottle  of  rum.' 


If  you  was  us,  you'd  jumped  on  him,  too,  sir!'' 

I  turned  to  the  bruised  whistler,  and  I  said, 
"  Joe,  my  man,  what  shall  I  do  to  these  lads  ?  " 

"  Let  'em  all  go,  sir,"  said  Mattapoisett,  "  I  got 
no  more  'n  I  deserved." 

"  Now  go  forward,  every  man  of  you,"  said  I, 
•"  and  let  me  hear  no  more  of  your  troubles." 

I  say  the  third  day  went  by.  Perhaps  that  is 
an  over-statement.  As  my  men  started  forward, 
the  sun  was  already  setting.  The  whole  harbor 
was  red  in  its  glare. 

No  sooner  had  the  crew  left  the  quarter-deck 
than  loud  cheers  were  heard  off  to  starboard. 
The  men  on  the  British  whaler  were  dancing 
about  like  lunatics,  pitching  their  caps  into  the 
air,  and  shouting  themselves  hoarse. 

«  'Urrigh !  'Urrigh  !  !  'Urrigh  If!"  they  yelled. 
"  'Ere's  for  the  cooper,  once  more,  boys,  — 
'Urri-i-i-i-igh  !  " 

A  tiny  fishing  smack  had  been  beating  up  the 
harbor  for  the  last  hour,  and  now  she  was  coming 
alongside  the  lime-juicer.  Once  within  hailing 


THE    CAST- A  WAY.  Ill 

distance,  her  skipper  had  cried  out  to  the  British 
captain,  "Ahoy,  monsieur!  Ahoy!  J'ai  votre 
coopier  !  " 

No  cooper  was  seen,  but  the  cooper's  canoe 
followed  close  in  the  wake  of  the  sloop. 

Just  then  two  heads  appeared  above  the  fisher 
man's  hatch-way.  A  moment  more,  and  a  third 
head  came  in  view. 

It  was  the  cooper  —  pale  and  sick  and  haggard, 
but  still  alive  —  carried  in  th.  arms  of  his 
preservers. 

"  Hurray  !  Hurray  !  "  our  sailors  answered 
when  they  fully  took  in  the  situation.  Then  they 
danced  as  wildly  as  the  Englishmen,  hugged  each 
other  like  school-girls,  and  all  but  wept  for  joy. 

"  Hip,  hip  !  "  shouted  Mattapoisett  Joe,  forget- 
ing  his  bruises. 

"  Hurr-a-a-a-a-a-a-y !  !  !  !"  yelled  the  whole 
crew,  and  I  yelled  with  them. 

That  night  after  supper  I  gave  orders  to  my 
men  to  put  on  their  Sunday  clothes,  and  to  dress 
our  boats  with  all  the  bunting  they  could  carry. 

Weatherface  was  to  bring  his  fiddle  or  be  put  in 
irons.  Little  Tom  Bunker  was  to  bring  his  accor 
dion  or  suffer  a  similar  penalty.  The  cabin-boy, 
a  mere  creeper  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  was  to 
remain  behind  as  ship-keeper. 


112  THE    CAST-AWAY. 

Then  we  manned  the  boats,  lowered  away,  and 
pnlled  to  the  merry  lime-juicer. 

We  found  ourselves  no  unexpected  guests. 
Elaborate  preparations  had  been  made  for  our 
entertainment.  The  "doctor"  had  filled  his  "cop 
pers  "  with  the  most  toothsome  of  land  fare.  The 
crew  had  dressed  up  to  receive  us.  The  ship  had 
been  loaded  with  bright-colored  bunting.  The 
decks  had  been  cleared  for  dancing.  There  was 
an  all-round,  rollicking,  sailorly  good  time  that 
lasted  till  midnight. 

The  poor  cooper,  though  fully  conscious  of  the 
honors  being  paid  him,  was  too  weak  and  wretched 
to  join  in  the  festivities.  A  doctor  from  on  shore 
came  off  to  look  at  him,  and  recommended  hot 
milk  as  a  harmless  restorative.  When  I  looked  in 
upon  the  cooper  the  poor  fellow  turned  his  head 
mournfully  on  His  pillow  and  said,  "Shiver  my 
soul,  but  I  feel  like  a  'ard-boiled  owl !  " 

Next  morning  we  hoisted  our  Blue  Peter,  a 
homeward  bounder.  It  was  worth  a  cask  of 
sperm  oil  to  hear  our  crew  sing  at  the  windlass  as 
they  hove  up  anchor.  I  was  an  old  sea-dog  even 
in  those  days;  I  didn't  come  through  the  cabin 
windows;  I  was  put  through  the  mill,  ground  and 
bolted  ;  but  never  in  all  my  long  and  varied  salt 
water  experience  had  I  heard  a  crew  sing  better. 


THE    CAST- AWAY.  113 

Mattapoisett's  resonant  baritone  carried  the  solo 
lines  superbly.  The  crew  shouted  the  refrain 
with  spirit —  or,  as  little  Tom  Bunker  said,  "  with 
great  venom." 

"  My  boy  he  was  a  sailor,  he  sailed  away  to  sea, 

Heave  away,  my  hearties ;  heave  away,  my  boys ! 
"  But  when  he  went  to  sea  he  vow,d  he'd  soon  come  back  to  me! 

Heave  away,  my  hearties ;  heave  away,  my  boys ! 
"  He  sailed  upon  a  vessel,  a- whaling  for  to  go, 

Heave  away,  my  hearties;  heave  away,  my  boys! 
"  It  was  a  tedious  journey,  but  he  was  bound  to  go, 

Heave  away,  my  hearties ;  heave  away,  my  boys ! 
"  The  captain  was  a  good  man,  a  sailor  to  the  core, 

Heave  awav,  my  hearties;  heave  away,  my  boys! 
"  T'was  early  in  the  morning,  the  watch  was  down  below, 

Heave  away,  my  hearties ;  heave  away,  my  boys ! 
"A  sailor  in  the  mainmast  crow's-nest  sang  out  '  There  she  blows!' 

Heave  away,  my  hearties,  heave  away,  my  boys! 
'k  They  lowered  the  boats  and  struck  the  whale,  and  soon  the 
monster  died, 

Heave  away,  my  hearties ;  heave  away,  my  boys ! 
"  They  tied  a  rope  upon  him  tight,  and  towed  him  alongside, 

Heave  away,  my  hearties ;  heave  away,  my  boys ! 
"  We  cut  him  in  and  tried  him  out,  and  stowed  him  down  below, 

Heave  away,  my  hearties;  heave  away,  my  boys! 
"We'll  set  all  sail,  and  head  her  straight,  and  homeward  we  will  go, 

Heave  away,  my  hearties ;  heave  away,  my  boys ! 
"  And  soon  we  shall  be  home  again;  our  friends  we  soon  shall  see, 

HeaVe  away,  my  hearties;  heave  away,  my  boys! 
''  And  when  we  see  New  Bedford,  we  will  no  more  go  to  sea, 

Heave  away,  my  hearties;  heave  away,  my  boys! 
"  And  when  we  go  'longside  the  wharf,  and  put  our  feet  on  shore, 

Heave  away,  my  hearties ;  heave  away,  my  boys ! 
"  You  can  gamble  that  we'll  never  go  a-whaling  any  more, 

Heave  away,  my  hearties;  heave  away,  my  boys! " 

It  was  just  about  Christmas  time,  fine  hot 
weather,  that  we  came  within  sight  of  Tristan  de 
Acunha,  Lat.  37°  S.,  and  Long.  12°  16'  W.  The 


114 


THE    CAST-AWAY. 


THE    CAST- A  WAY.  115 

Portuguese  discoverer,  whose  name  the  island 
bears,  put  in  his  first  appearance,  so  I  have  read, 
in  1506.  He  certainly  deserves  to  have  his  name 
thus  immortalized  for  he  gave  the  world  a  new 
treasure,  indeed  —  a  very  pearl  of  an  island,  seven 
miles  across,  as  round  as  a  dollar,  and  enclosing  a 
fresh-water  lake  which  never  freezes.  That,  no 
doubt,  is  explained  by  the  volcanic  nature  of  the 
whole  formation.  Cliffs,  straight  as  a  castle  wall, 
tower  up  from  the  water's  edge  to  a  height  of 
two  thousand  feet.  Harbor  there  is  none,  and 
but  for  a  narrow  inlet  on  the  north  side,  no  ade 
quate  landing  place.  A  group  of  white-washed 
stone  houses  on  the  north-west  shore  is  the 
nearest  approach  to  a  town  anywhere  on  the 
island. 

Now  the  reason  all  these  details  have  fastened 
themselves  so  tenaciously  upon  my  memory  is 
that  right  here  I  came  near  losing  my  ship.  It 
was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  we  were  taking  off 
supplies  from  the  shore.  The  wind  —  our  only 
stay  since  it  was  too  deep  water  for  our  best 
bower  to  touch  bottom  —  had  died  out  to  a  calm. 
It  was  an  Irishman's  hurricane,  straight  up  and 
down;  and  yet  the  strong  ground-swell  of  the 
ocean  kept  carrying  us  further  and  further  in 
shore.  We  cracked  on  every  stitch  of  canvas  we 


116  THE    CAST-AWAY. 

could  spread,  and  with  half  a  hand  at  the  billows 
we  should  have  forged  ahead  all  fluking  ;  but  as  it 
was,  our  sails  hung  as  limp  as  the  dangling  damp 
sheets  on  an  indoor  clothes-horse.  There  was  not 
a  babble  of  white  water  at  our  prow.  There  was 
not  a  streak  or  ripple  in  our  wake.  And  yet 
moment  by  moment  those  awful  cliffs*  grew  taller. 
We  sent  out  a  boat  with  a  line  —  then  two  boats 
—  then  three  !  —  trying  our  sturdiest  to  ratch  the 
precious  barky  out  of  imminent  danger.  At  last 
the  cliff-crests  seemed  to  rise  no  higher,  though 
we  dared  not  trust  our  eyes,  we  so  longed  to  see 
them  stop  rising.  Already  the  breakers  pounded 
ominously  at  their  feet.  Already  the  sea-birds, 
nesting  amongst  their  crags,  called  hideously  near. 
By  chance  —  or  rather,  as  I  have  always  said, 
by  the  providence  of  God  —  another  ship  —  and 
she  a  whaler,  lay  not  far  from  us.  I  set  my  colors 
for  assistance,  and  down  into  the  water  came  her 
boats,  the  davit-blocks  creaking  and  the  whale 
men  shouting  encouragement  to  our  three  boats' 
crews.  Swift  as  so  many  racers  in  a  regatta,  the 
stranger's  cedar  craft  came  ripping  through  the 
smooth  water,  every  dip  and  plash  of  their  oars 
seeming  measurably  to  lift  and  lighten  the  burden 
of  our  suspense.  Six  boats  and  thirty-six  men 
saved  the  Hope  from  being  sent  on  that  iron- 


THE    CAST- A  WAY.  117 

bound  shore.  We  towed  her  well  off  shore,  and 
a  tardy  flaw  of  wind  at  last  bellied  out  her  canvas. 
Then  is  it  any  wonder  that  I  have  never  forgotten 
Tristan  de  Acunha  ? 


THE  WHALEMAN   WHO  WENT 
ON  THE  STAGE. 


"  Being  in  a  ship  is  being  in  jail,  with  a  chance  of  being  drowned." 

—  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson. 


JOHN  PIERCE  certainly  came  down  from  aloft. 
There  could  be  no  possible  doubt  about  that.  I 
certainly  spoke  with  him  as  he  passed  me  on  his 
way  to  the  forecastle.  This  much,  I  am  sure,  will 
never  be  called  in  question. 

But  what  followed  —  even  to  this  hour  it  makes 
me  shudder,  sickened  with  dread,  to  recall  what 
followed  —  the  days  of  anxiety,  the  grim  mystery, 
the  final  despair,  and  the  haunting,  harrowing 
problem  of  that  tragical  disappearance ! 

We  had  put  in  at  Fayal  to  ship  home  some 
hundred  barrels  and  more  of  sperm  oil,  and  then 
cleared  away  and  steered  to  the  south,  carrying 
all  sail  to  get  away  from  the  island.  We  left  at 
five  in  the  afternoon,  and  by  eleven  o'clock  that 
night,  when  we  had  made  about  fifteen  miles 
offing,  I  gave  orders  to  take  in  our  top-gallant 
sails,  and  poor  Pierce  went  aloft  with  the  others. 
As  he  slid  down  the  backstay  and  passed  me  on 
deck,  I  had  a  pleasant  word  with  him,  and  then  he 


WHALEMAN    ON    THE    STAGE.  119 

went  forward  and  was  lost  to  view  in  the  darkness. 
Many  a  time  since  then  have  I  had  reason  to  be 
glad  that  my  last  words  to  the  man  were  kind. 

At  four  next  morning,  when  the  watch  was 
called,  no  John  Pierce  could  be  found. 

Every  nook  and  every  smallest  cranny  in  the 
whole  ship  was  looked  into,  but  all  to  no  purpose. 
Not  a  trace  of  the  fellow  could  we  discover. 
Reluctantly  at  last  we  gave  him  up  as  lost, 
convinced  against  our  wills  that  he  had  tumbled 
overboard  during  the  night. 

A  solemn  hush  fell  upon  us.  Hardened,  though 
most  of  us  were,  and  accustomed  to  the  constant 
dangers  of  a  seaman's  calling  —  used  though  we 
were  to  these  sudden  disappearances  from  life  and 
duty  —  we  could  never  be  reconciled  to  them. 
Indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  each  new  death  of  this  sort 
were  more  dreadful  than  the  one  before  it. 

But,  as  usual,  the  sense  o.f  shock  and  of  wrong 
went  by.  The  man's  absence  ceased  to  impress 
us.  At  last  we  had  almost  forgotten  the  circum 
stance  of  his  taking  off. 

About  one  year  from  the  night  of  Pierce' s 
disappearance,  we  were  cruising  oft'  Madagascar. 

I  happened  that  day  to  be  running  over  my 
log-book  and  chanced  upon  the  entry  of  the  facts 
noted  above.  There  was  the  record  in  my  own 


120  WHALEMAN    ON    THE    STAGE. 

hand,  a  deep  border  of  black  drawn  around  it.  I 
found  that  I  had  departed  from  the  usual  dry  and 
formal  log-book  style.  Indeed,  I  had  sentimental 
ized  not  a  little.  Viewing,  in  calmer  mood,  this 
eulogy  of  John  Pierce,  I  could  not  help  feeling  a 
little  amused.  I  had  always  made  fun  of  funeral 
sermons,  and  here  I  had  been  preaching  one 
myself  in  black  and  white. 

As  I  was  in  the  midst  of  this  reverie,  the  cabin- 
boy  dropped  down  the  stairway  to  bring  word  that 
a  whale-ship  had  just  been  sighted.  It  was  not 
long  after  that,  with  customary  ceremonies,  we 
spoke  her.  She  proved  to  be  an  old  friend  from 
Sag  Harbor. 

We  kept  fairly  close  together  until  sundown, 
and  then  the  Sag  Harbor  captain  and  boat's  crew 
came  on  board  to  spend  the  evening. 

There  in  the  boat,  to  our  utter  amazement,  was 
JOHN  PIERCE  !  He  had  grown  a  stubby  beard 
since  last  we  had  seen  him,  but  that  was  no  dis 
guise.  There  he  was  (to  my  infinite  relief)  alive 
and  well  —  the  same  unmistakable,  happy  -  go  - 
lucky,  jolly  Jack  Tar  as  before  he  had  gone  to 
his  watery  grave.  It  was  enough  to  make  a  man 
believe  in  the  transmigration  of  souls !  I  was 
mightily  glad  to  see  him  alive,  though,  to  tell  the 
truth,  I  had  not  greatly  missed  his  services. 


WHALEMAN    ON    THE    STAGE.  121 

We  got  a  part  of  the  story  from  the  Sag  Harbor 
captain.  It  seems  they  had  sailed  out  of  port 
about  ten  in  the  morning,  the  next  day  after 
Pierce's  strange  disappearance.  At  four  that  after 
noon,  when  they  were  about  fifteen  miles  from  the 
land,  the  man  at  the  lookout  on  the  mainmast 
head  reported  something  in  sight,  floating  on  the 
water  about  two  miles  from  the  ship.  The  captain 
went  aloft  with  the  glass  to  have  a  look  at  it,  but 
could  not  make  out  what  it  was,  only  he  was  certain 
it  was  something  alive,  for  it  kept  moving  and 
wriggling  all  the  while,  as  if  to  attract  attention 
from  the  ship.  The  old  man's  curiosity  was  so 
thoroughly  aroused  by  this  time  that  he  veered 
off  his  course  and  steered  straight  for  the  strange 
object. 

"  When  I  came  near  enough,"  said  the  captain, 
"  What  should  I  see  through  my  glass  but  a  little 
live  man,  squatting  on  the  surface  of  the  water 
and  waving  his  arms  !  Yes,  that's  the  real  truth, 
and  I  give  an  honest  seaman's  Avord  for  it." 

My  eyes  were  well  open  by  this  time,  and  I 
was  beginning  to  believe  the  story. 

Talk  about  mermaids  and  sea-serpents  and  the 
Flying  Dutchman  and  the  rest  of  the  fo'cas'le 
nonsense  !  Here  was  a  real,  genuine  thing  to  beat 
'em  all ! 


122  WHALEMAN    OX    THE    STAGE. 

"  But  the  lad's  aboard  now.  Here,  John  Pierce, 
come  into  the  cabin,  my  man,  and  tell  Captain 
Robbins  the  stiffest  twister  he  ever  listened  to  ! 
Come,  make  a  clean  breast  of  it.  Tell  us  how 
you  proved  yourself  the  fool  -  hardiest,  dare- 
devilest  galley-growler  that  ever  earned  a  sailor's 
blessing  !  " 

Pierce  had  already  come,  unwilling  and  with 
much  hesitation,  through  the  cabin  door.  Appar 
ently  he  was  gladder  to  see  me  than  he  was  to 
have  to  talk  with  me. 

"  Give  us  your  flipper,  boy ;  how  are  you  ? " 
said  I. 

Pierce  grinned  sheepishly.  "  Oh,  I'm  all  right," 
he  answered,  u  right  enough  anyhow  for  a  fellow 
that's  been  a  whole  good  year  in  the  bottom  of 
the  sea." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  captain,  "  out  with  it ! 
Tell  the  whole  outrageous  yarn  from  beginning 
to  end  or  I'll  log  you,  haze  you,  clap  the  darbies 
on  your  wrists,  make  a  spread  eagle  of  you,  and 
invite  you  to  walk  the  plank ;  and  then  if  that 
won't  do,  I'll  shut  you  up  in  the  run  and  feed  you 
on  bread  and  water  !  " 

We  laughed,  all  three,  and  the  bashful  Pierce 
sat  down  between  the  two  "  old  men  "  and  took 
up  his  parable. 


WHALEMAN    ON    THE    STAGE.  123 

"  Fact  is,"  he  began  reluctantly,  "  Stormy  Jones 
and  I  got  sick  'o  the  voyage.  Nothin'  personal, 
Cap'n,  only  we  just  thought  we'd  got  to  have  a 
change. 

"  So  I  says  to  Jones,  '  shipmate,'  says  I,  '  let's 
move  ! ' 

" '  Avast,'  says  he,  '  where  the  deuce'll  we 
move  to  ? ' 

"  Then  says  I  to  Jones,  'Stormy/  says  I,  '  you 
know  them  stages  ? ' 

"  <  What  o'  them  stages  ? '  Jones  asks,  never 
taking  my  meaning. 

"  Then  I  says  to  Jones,  '  Bear  a  bob,  messmate, 
till  I  tell  you  the  news.  This  is  what  we'll  up 
and  do.  We'll  lower  one  of  them  stages  over  the 
ship's  bows  in  the  middle  o'  some  dark  night  and 
we'll  float  away  on  it,  us  two,  and  before  we're 
old  and  gray  and  toothless  some  ship  or  other' 11 
come  along  and'  pick  us  up.' 

"  '  Risky/  says  Jones. 

"  '  Aye,  aye,  sir/  says  I,  '  Its  risky,  maybe,  and 
risky  maybe  not.  Ships  go  in  schools  like  cow 
whales  on  these  here  grounds.  Say  we  try  it,  my 
man ! ' 

"  Then  Stormy  agrees,  old  hypocrit  as  he  is, 
and  next  thing  you  know  he  goes  and  backs  out 
of  it,  and  I  finds  myself  turned  captain  and  mate 


124  WHALEMAN    ON    THE    STAGE. 

and  crew  and  cabin-boy  of  a  craft  eight  feet  long 
and  just  fifteen  inches  wide.  But  I  says  to  myself, 
6  Pierce,  you  fool,  you're  in  for  it  now,  so  trust 
to  luck  for  your  miserable  life.  If  you  don't 
do  the  act  that  Jones  will  tell  the  crew,  and  then 
you'll  have  hell  afloat  the  rest  of  the  voyage. 

"  Well,  Cap'n  Robbing,  you  remember  that 
night  I  took  my  leave.  You  thought  I'd  gone 
overboard,  didn't  you  ?  You  was  dead  right,  cap'n, 
dead  right,  right  as  a  right  whale.  That's  just 
where  I  had  gone.  But  you  thought  I'd  lost  the 
number  of  my  mess,  and  in  that  you  were  all 
wrong !  " 

I  stared  at  Pierce,  my  eyes  big  with  wonder. 
The  Sag  Harbor  captain  stared  at  me,  a  broad 
grin  covering  his  hard  red  face  as  he  watched  me 
take  in  this  ridiculous  confirmation  of  his  story. 

I  said  nothing. 

"Go  on,  Pierce,"  said  Pierce's  captain. 

"  Well,"  said  the  sailor,  "  you've  got  most  of  the 
yarn  a' ready,  sir.  But,  0  Lord  !  how  my  heart 
sickened  when  I  heard  that  stage  go  plunk  into 
the  water  on  the  Popes  bow.  Then  I  slipped 
down  onto  it  and  let  go.  It  was  all  I  could  do 
not  to  holler  for  help  as  the  stage  slipped  aft  in 
the  swash.  Oh,  but  I  was  sick  o'  the  job  !  After 
awhile  I  did  holler,  but  it  was  too  late.  Nobody 


WHALEMAN    ON    THE    STAGE.  125 

could  hear  me.  Then  I  says,  '  Pierce,  my  hearty, 
you'll  never'll  see  your  Nancy  !  ' 

"  You  know  the  rest.  The  cap'n  here  picked 
me  up  when  I  was  as  hungry  as  a  polar  bear,  and 
deathly  faint  and  scared  and  discouraged. 

"  But  what  beats  me,  Cap'n  Robbins,  is  that 
Jones  held  his  tongue  all  that  while  and  never 
told  you  the  news ;  for  if  ever  a  seaman  was 
rigged  with  self-acting  jawing  tackle,  it's  that 
same  lubberly  coward  of  a  stormy  Jones  !  " 

This  ended  the  mighty  yarn.  The  Sag  Harbor 
man  beamed  red  as  a  sunset. 

"  Aha,  sir,"  said  he,  "  you  thought  I  could  swear 
through  a  nine-inch  plank,  didn't  you  ?  But  it's 
true,  every  word,  just  as  I  tell  you  and  just  as  my 
man  Pierce  has  said.  And,  Pierce,  if  the  Cap'n 
has  no  objections,  you  may  go  for'ard  and  see  if 
you  can't  find  some  of  your  old  shipmates  in  the 
fo'cas'le." 

"  Pierce,"  I  added,  "  when  you  feel  like  it,  you 
may  come  back  here  and  read  your  epitaph  in  the 
log-book.  You'll  never  recognize  it  as  your  own, 
I'll  warrant." 

Then  the  Sag  Harbor  man  lit  his  pipe,  leaned 
back  in  his  chair,  crossed  his  stout  legs,  and 
changed  the  subject.  "  By  the  way,  Cap'n,"  said 


126 


WHALEMAN    ON    THE    STAGE. 


he,  "  what  do  you  hear  from  New  Bedford  ?  They 
tell  me  its  the  busiest  station  on  the  Underground 
Kail  road." 


"WHALES  HAS  FEELIN'S/ 


"  Whales  has  feelin's  as  well  as  anybody.  They  don't  like  to  be  stuck  in  the 
gizzards,  an'  hauled  alongside,  an'  cut  in,  an'  tried  out  in  these  here  boilers  no 
more'n  I  do!  "  —  Barzij  Mack's  Biology. 


THE  whale  having  gone  down,  we  waited  for 
him  to  come  up  again.  Three  boats  danced  idly 
upon  the  warm  Madagascan  water  —  the  mate's, 
the  second  mate's  and  my  own.  The  sun  blazed 
viciously  down  from  a  cloudless  sky. 

We  lay  well  apart,  covering  a  large  area  of 
swelling,  billowy  sea.  When  the  whale  came  up 
again,  the  real  battle  would  begin. 

A  whole  hour  we  waited  in  anxious  expectance. 
As  is  natural  at  such  times,  my  thoughts,  mean 
while,  ran  back  years  and  years  to  other  whales 
and  other  fights.  Once  when  I  was  a  cabin  boy  I 
had  stood  three  hours  in  the  stern  of  a  stoven 
boat,  sunk  just  to  the  gunwale,  while  two  wounded 
whales  were  cutting  about  and  making  the  water 
white  with  their  huge  flukes,  so  near  that  it 
seemed  they  must  kill  me.  Was  the  monster, 
down  below  in  those  vague  amethystine  depths, 
preparing  some  such  terrors  for  the  present  occa 
sion  ?  I  recalled,  too,  how  once  a  dying  whale 
had  brought  his  spout-hole  up  against  our  boat 


128  "  WHALES    HAS 


and  belched  barrelsfull  of  gore  all  over  us,  so  that 
when  I  opened  my  eyes  every  man  was  painted 
red  —  completely  covered  with  fresh,  hot  blood, 
so  that  we  all  jumped  into  the  water  for  a  hasty 
bath.  Was  this  sunken  leviathan  making  ready 
to  serve  us  thus  today  ?  I  also  remembered  how 
a  gigantic  spouter  had  tossed  me  on  his  flukes 
—  boat,  boat's  crew,  craft  and  all  —  whist!  — 
twenty  feet  into  the  air,  till  it  seemed  that  we'd 
never  come  down  ;  and  how  I  found  myself  at 
last  launched  adrift,  clinging  to  a  piece  of  the 
steering-oar,  which  had  snapped  off  at  the  stern- 
post  of  the  shattered  boat.  Had  not  this  whale 
flukes  also  ?  How  would  he  use  them  ?  Should 
/  be  his  victim  ?  or  the  mate  ?  or  the  third  mate  ? 
There  is  something  delicious  in  this  exciting 
uncertainty.  It  makes  your  blood  tingle.  It 
makes  your  nerves  thrill.  It  makes  you  feel 
yourself  ready  to  face  the  whole  world  of  perils 
and  proudly  conquer  them  all.  You  stand  in  the 
stern-sheets,  leaning  on  the  steering-oar,  and  as 
you  look  into  the  faces  of  those  five  stalwart  men 
on  the  thwarts  before  you,  you  tell  yourself  they 
are  fine  heroes,  every  man  Jack  of  them.  Yes, 
heroes  !  Soldiers  face  no  greater  perils.  Soldiers 
win  no  worthier  laurels.  Back  of  every  trophy  of 
military  valor,  you  must  needs  see  human  blood- 


"WHALES  HAS  FEELIN'S."  129 

shed,  human  bereavement,  human  cruelty,  and, 
far  too  often,  the  human  lust  for  name  and  place. 
But  the  whaleman's  glories  are  sullied  by  no  such 
shameful  pollution.  Is  he  rich  when  his  sea- 
toiling  days  are  done  ?  He  has  impoverished  no 
one.  Instead,  he  has  added  to  the  world's  wealth. 
Is  he  successful  in  the  pursuit  of  his  calling  ?  No 
widow  and  no  tearful  orphans  mourn  over  his 
triumphs.  Is  he  proud  of  his  profession  ?  He 
can  claim  for  it  the  good  name  of  an  honest  liveli 
hood,  a  lawful  and  law-abiding  business,  a  field 
for  soldierly  courage  purged  of  soldierly  brutality. 
Nor  do  tyrany  and  oppression  follow  in  his  paths. 
Instead,  come  only  the  blessings  of  a  peaceful 
prosperity. 

So,  as  I  was  saying,  you  stand  and  wait,  a-tingle 
with  enthusiasm.  You  are  in  your  glory  now. 
You  would  not  for  the  whole  world  be  any  other 
thing  but  a  whaleman.  You  are  glad  that  your 
boyhood  anticipated  this  splendid  life  of  adven 
ture,  and  aspired  after  its  high  responsibilities.  To 
its  toils  and  its  perils  you  willingly  devote  your 
youth  and  best  manhood.  You  will  be  proud,  in 
long  years  to  come,  to  recount  the  history  of  your 
daring  sea-battles. 

Few  landsmen  can  understand  these  things. 
You  must  go  a-blubber-hunting  on  your  own 

9 


130  "WHALES  HAS  FEELIN'S." 

account,  fully  to  grasp  their  meaning.  In  fact 
I  know  of  only  one  land-lubber  who  ever  really 
caught  the  spirit  of  the  whale-hunt,  and  that  is 
old  Walt  Whitman,  who  wrote  those  splendid, 
pictorial  lines  (albeit  they  go  devoid  of  rhyme, 
and,  in  place  of  precise  metre,  have  only  a  feeble 
and  slovenly  wobble): 


"  O  the  whaleman's  joys!  O  I  cruise  ray  old  cruise  again ! 
I  feel  the  ship's  motion  under  me,  I  feel  the  Atlantic  breezes 

fanning  me. 
I  hear  the  cry  again  sent  down  from  the   mast-head,    There  she 

blows  ! 
Again  I  spring  up  the  rigging  to  look  with  the  rest  — we  descend, 

wild  wi1h  excitement, 

I  leap  in  the  lowered  boat,  we  row  toward  our  prey  where  he  lies, 
We   approach  stealthy  and  silent,  I  see  the  mountainous  mass, 

lethargic,  basking,    . 
I  see  the  harpooner  standing  up,  I  see  the  weapon  dart  from  his 

vigorous  arm ; 

0  swift  again  far  out  in  the  ocean  the  wounded  whale,  settling, 

running  to  windward,  tows  me. 
Again  I  see  him  rise  to  breathe,  we  row  close  again, 

1  see  a  lance  driven  through  his  side,  pressed  deep,  turned  in  the 

wound, 
Again  we  back  off,  I  see  him  settle  again,  the  life  is  leaving  him 

fast. 
As  he  rises  he  spouts  blood,  I  see  him  swim  in  circles  narrower  and 

narrower,  swiftly  cutting  the  water  — 
I  see  him  die. 
He  gives  one  convulsive  leap  in  the  centre  of  the  circle,  and  then 

falls  flat  and  still  in  the  bloody  foam." 


Barring  the  single  sentence  "  I  see  the  moun 
tainous  mass,"  (apparently  Whitman  thought  a 
whale  cruised  around  two-thirds  out  of  water,  like 


"  WHALES    HAS    FEELIN's."  131 

a  steam-boat)  that  is  a  perfect  description  of  the 
taking  of  the  whale.  It  is  more  than  that.  It  is 
the  picture  of  the  inner  experience  of  the  chase 
and  the  fight  —  the  joy  of  it,  the  glow  of  it,  the 
wild,  fierce  thrill  of  it ! 

I  was  wishing  with  all  my  heart,  as  we  waited 
for  that  submarine  lounger  to  return  to  the  sur 
face,  that  I  could  somehow  tell  which  boat  would 
get  a  chance  to  fasten  to  him. 

But  a  sudden  end  to  reminiscence  and  philoso 
phizing.  Look !  There  is  frantic  excitement  in 
the  mate's  boat  off  to  leeward  --  "  Stand  up  and 
give  it  to  him  !  Quick,  quick,  quick  I  "  See  !  —  a 
figure  erect  in  the  boat's  bow  —  a  long  shaft 
wielded  in  both  hands  high  over  the  man's  head  — 
a  momentary  poise  —  a  swift,  springing  motion  - 
a  sudden  recoil —  the  harpoon  hurtling  through  the 
air — the  slender  line  singing  after  it — the  weapon 
sunk  fast  in  something,  and  that  something 
sinking  rapidly  into  the  depths,  dragging  the  line 
through  the  chocks  so  fast  the  druggs  could  do 
nothing  to  steady  it  —  fifty  fathoms  —  a  hun 
dred  —  two  hundred !  The  mate  and  the  har- 
pooner  have  changed  places.  The  men  dodged 
the  flying  line. 

Now  followed  a  fresh  period  of  suspense  — 
anxious,  but  brief. 


132  "WHALES  HAS  FEELIN'S." 

After  a  few  minutes,  there  was  a  sudden  uproar 
in  the  second  mate's  boat.  Again  the  excited  cry, 
"  Stand  up  quick  —  give  it  to  him !  !  Again  a 
heavy  harpoon  was  sent  a-whizzing  through  the 
air,  and  plunging  deep  into  that  awful,  water- 
hidden  something.  Again  the  confusion  in  the 
boat  and  the  preparation  for  lancing. 

Responsive  to  the  stab  of  this  second  harpoon, 
the  monster  sullenly  settled  under  water.  The 
battle  was  now  well  joined.  What  next  ? 

'Suddenly  and  all  unexpected,  the  whale  came 
up  again  like  a  submarine  boat.  He  bumped  his 
back  against  the  blades  of  the  first  mate's  oars. 
His  shiny  black  hump  stood  fully  a  foot  out  of 
water.  The  men  could  feel  the  damp  heat  of  his 
spout.  We  could  hear  the  sound  of  it. 

This  time  old  Blubber  had  gore  in  his  eye.  He 
was  in  for  carnage  and  calamity  and  consternation. 
He  lifted  his  huge  square  nose  ten  feet  into  the 
air,  and  dropping  his  long  under-jaw,  deliberately 
calculated  his  distance.  Then  with  a  hideous 
swing  of  his  whole  appalling  mass,  he  veered 
round  and  took  that  whale-boat  into  his  mouth. 
His  ivory  teeth  smashed  through  the  cedar  clinker- 
work.  The  boat  went  to  pieces  like  an  egg-shell. 

The  mate's  crew  flung  themselves  headlong  into 
the  water,  and  escaped  by  the  skin  of  their  teeth. 


WHALES    HAS    FEELIx's." 


133 


134  "WHALES  HAS  FEELIN'S." 

Now  the  whale  turned  suddenly  about.  His 
rage  redoubled.  He  would  have  blood  or  die  for 
it.  Making  for  the  third  officer's  boat,  he  threw 
his  cruel  jaw  across  it,  turning  it  bottom-up  and 
staving  it  in.  Again,  as  by  a  miracle,  every  man 
escaped  unhurt. 

A  pretty  situation!  There  were  now  two  boats' 
crews  floundering  and  sputtering  in  the  water, 
while  the  whale  was  lashing  the  waves  into  froth 
with  his  flukes  and  sending  the  suds  flying  in 
every  direction. 

With  the  one  remaining  boat,  I  succeeded  in 
picking  up  the  swimmers,  and  in  ferrying  them 
away  to  the  ship.  Fortunately  we  had  not  far  to 
travel. 

How  beautiful  the  Clara  Bell  looked  as  the 
boat  came  round  so  that  I  faced  her  again  !  Never 
had  I  thought  her  graceful,  half-clipper  lines  such 
an  exquisitely  perfect  model.  Never  had  winged- 
dragon  figure-head  impressed  me  as  such  a  con- 
sumate  triumph  of  the  wood-carver's  art.  Never 
had  the  two  white  streaks  along  her  side  from 
stern  to  stern  seemed  such  a  splendid  decoration. 
Never,  in  all  the  days  I  had  sailed  in  her,  had  she 
looked  the  white-robed  angel-guardian  she  did 
now.  She  stood  with  her  main-yard  hauled  aback. 
She  nodded  and  dipped,  and  rose  jauntily  on  the 


"  WHALES  HAS  FEELIN'S."  135 

ocean  swell.     She  was  the  joyfullest  ship  on  all 
the  seas.     We  were  going  back  to  her 

"  Oh,  ain't  I  all-fired  glad  we  got  done  with  that 
wild-eyed  monster  ?"  The  speaker  was  dripping 
with  brine.  "  I  calc'lated  I  was  clean  daown- 
swallered  like  old  Jonah  —  all-fired  sure  I  were  !  " 

"  Maybe  I  ain't  glad,  too !  oh,  maybe  not !  I 
could  look  way  down  in  the  dratted  brute's  dratted 
big  gizzards.  Deep  ?  Maybe  not.  Oh,  no.  Felt 
like  I  was  dangled  over  the  drattedest  deep  pit  in 
the  whole  dratted  world." 

"I  wouldn't  touch  that  there  man-eater  with 
the  far-end  of  a  spare  yard  —  not  for  money •;" 
said  a  third,  squeezing  the  salt-water  out  of  his 
beard,  "  no,  not  for  money.  I  tell  you,  mess 
mates,  it's  homicide  an'  man-slaughter,  an'  bloody 
murder  with  malice  aforethought  to  take  an' 
dump  two  boats'  crews  down  the  gullet  o'  that 
pesky  man-eater,  /  tell  you  !  " 

But  think  not,  gentle  reader,  that  these  words 
were  spoken  in  anything  graver  than  jest. 

That  this  whale  was  a  tough  one,  I  have  no 
inclination  to  deny  —  not  the  slightest.  I  followed 
the  sea  forty-one  years,  I  was  captain  of  a  ship 
twenty-eight  years,  I  have  sailed  more  than  a 
million  miles,  and  I  have  had  a  hand  in  the  taking 
of  about  twelve  thousand  barrels  of  oil ;  but  this 


136  "  WHALES    HAS    FEELINGS." 

fighting  leviathan  off  Fort  Dauphin  was  one  of 
the  fiercest  bits  of  blubber  I  ever  raised  out  of  the 
ocean.  Yet  neither  I  nor  my  men  had  any 
thought  of  surrender.  We  had  already  wasted 
two  boats  on  him  and  we  meant  to  be  paid  for  the 
outlay.  We  insisted  upon  exacting  a  war  indemity, 
payable  in  sperm  oil — a  hundred  or  a  hundred 
and  twenty  barrels  —  the  more  the  merrier ! 

We  clambered  up  the  ship's  side  and  over  the 
rail.  From  the  deck  we  could  get  a  startling 
view  of  the  enemy.  The  infuriated  beast  lay 
wounded,  only  a  short  distance  from  the  ship, 
thrashing  around  amongst  the  floating  debris  — 
oars,  paddles,  lanterns,  and  water-kegs  —  to  say 
nothing  of  what  remained  of  our  two  boats,  the 
one  a  stoven  wreck,  the  other  smashed  to 
splinters.  It  would  have  turned  a  landsman  cold 
and  stiff  with  horror.  Nor  am  I  certain  that  all 
our  crew  were  anxious  to  renew  the  battle. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  we  immediately  got  down 
two  new  spare  boats  from  the  skids  overhead. 
We  made  them  ready  for  a  desperate  encounter 
as  we  were  going  into  the  face  of  death.  We 
meant  to  have  the  chances  in  our  favor.  The 
boats  must  be  made  as  light  as  possible,  so  as  to 
be  able  to  dart  away  in  an  instant,  if  necessary, 
when  the  whale  showed  fight  again.  To  this  end, 


a  WHALES    HAS    FEELINGS."  137 

we  hastily  prepared  the  most  severely  abridged 
outfit  —  not  an  inch  of  line,  and  not  a  single  piece 
of  craft  beyond  a  gun  and  a  bomb-lance  in  the 
mate's  boat  and  two  hand-lances  in  mine.  We 
manned  the  boats  with  strong  crews.  The  mate 
took  the  second  mate  along  with  him,  and  I  took 
the  third  mate.  We  lowered  the  boats  and  sped 
away  toward  our  prey. 

How  bright,  how  amber-hued,  the  southern 
sunlight,  as  it  fell  languorous  and  beautiful  upon 
the  ocean  billows  !  How  buoyant  the  dance  of  our 
hurrying  boats !  How  impressive  the  swroop  and 
the  soaring  of  the  white  gulls  and  albatrosses ! 
And  yet,  I  dare  say,  not  one  of  us  responded  to 
the  fine  romanticism  of  nature  --  we  were  bent 
upon  too  desperate  an  errand.  There  may  be  a 
perennially  fascinating  charm  in  whaling  life  when 
viewed  from  afar,  but  there  are  times  when  the 
business  assumes  a  grim  ugliness  at  close  range. 
The  poetry  of  the  sea  has  always  been  Avritten  by 
landsmen.  It  always  will  be. 

Charm  assuredly  there  had  been  in  the  suspense 
and  expectant  anxiety  preceeding  this  desperate 
fight  —  charm  enough,  when  its  horrors  were  only 
a  possibility ;  but  now,  when  the  mystery  was 
pierced,  the  terrors  become  hideous  facts,  and  the 
nature  of  the  foe  fully  known,  the  fun  was  gone 


138  "WHALES  HAS  FEELIN'S." 

altogether.  When  a  fighting  whale  has  chewed 
up  two  of  your  boats  and  beaten  you  roundly  in 
his  first  pitched  battle,  it  is  a  little  unpleasant  to 
go  at  him  again. 

Our  blood  ran  high,  as  we  approached  the 
infuriated  monster.  His  spout  stood  up  as  tall  as 
ever.  He  had  been  no  whit  enfeebled  by  his 
tremendous  exertions.  Two  harpoons  stuck  out 
of  his  back.  His  flukes  swung  in  air  with  deadly 
force  and  rapidity. 

The  mate  went  to  leeward  of  him  and  fired  a 
bomb-lance  into  him,  but  missed  his  vitals. 

Instantly  the  wounded  creature  turned  about, 
heaved  his  head  way  out  of  water,  opened  his 
cavernous  mouth,  and  made  a  frightful  lunge  for 
the  mate's  boat.  I  was  just  in  time.  I  stood  in 
the  bow  of  my  boat,  hardly  able  to  wait  long 
enough  to  choose  the  right  spot  for  the  stab.  I 
was  mad  with  excitement.  I  plunged  the  long 
lance  deep  into  the  whale's  vitals,  and  the  blood 
came  belching  out  of  his  spout-hole  rich  and  red 
and  warm,  and  after  a  few  moments  our  victim 
turned  up  dead  and  in  a  few  moments  more  we 
had  him  in  the  fluke  chains  along  side  the  Clara 
Bell. 

Deafening  indeed  were  the  cheers  from  the 
ship's  deck  when  we  had  won  that  desperate 


"WHALES    HAS    FEELIN's."  139 

fight;  warm  was  the  hand-grip  of  mess-mates  as 
we  climbed  aboard  ;  broad  and  bland  the  smile  on 
every  sun-browned  face  !  We  were  all  alive.  We 
were  all  unhurt.  We  had  killed  the  whale. 

The  inevitable  well-worn  joke  now  went  the 
rounds.  "  Better  have  paid  your  wash-woman  !  " 

"  You  needn't  talk,  Jack;  you're  as  wet  as  a 
draownded  shark.1' 

"Don't  care  if  I  be.  Ain't  no  gearin' 'tween 
wash-tubs  an'  whale-boats.  Who  said  there  was?" 

"  You  did,  you  slushy  hypocritter,  you.  Ef 
'taint  so,  then  what'd  you  say  I  cheated  my 
wash-woman  for,  jest  on  accaount  o'  me  bein'  in  a 
stoven  boat,  you  loony  beach-comber  ?  " 

"Clew  down  your  jawin'-tackle,  sonny  wax! 
Cheerily,  oh!" 

This  sort  of  mock-malice  stood  for  the  best  of 
good-will.  The  more  those  men  berated  each 
other  the  better  they  felt  all  around. 

When  they  took  the  falls  to  the  windlass  and 
manned  the  bars  it  was  a  joy  to  hear  them  sing. 
Sailor-songs  are  not  metrically  faultless,  any  more 
than  Whitman's  poems  ;  but  they  have  the  Jack 
Tar  spirit  of  the  forecastle  breathing  all  through 
them,  and  hear  and  there  a  touch  of  easy  humor. 
This  particular  song  ran,  as  I  remember  it,  some 
thing  after  this  fashion  :  — 


140  "WHALES  HAS  FEELIN'S.' 


O,  Johnny  was  no  sailor, 

(Renso,  boys,  Renso.) 
Still  he  shipped  on  a  Yankee  whaler, 

(Renso,  boys,  Renso  ) 
He  could  not  do  his  duty, 

(Renso,  boys,  Renso.) 
And  he  tried  to  run  away  then, 

(Renso,  boys,  Renso.) 
They  caught  and  brought  him  back  again, 

(Renso,  boys,  Renso.) 
And  he  said  he  never  would  go  again, 

(Renso,  boys,  Renso  ) 
They  put  him  pounding  cable, 

(Renso,  boys,  Renso.) 
And  found  him  very  able, 

(Renso,  boys,  Renso.) 
He  said  he'd  run  away  no  more, 

(Renso,  boys,  Renso.) 
He  only  waited  to  get  on  shore, 

(Renso,  boys,  Renso.) 
So  when  he  put  his  feet  on  shore, 

(Renso,  boys,  Renso.) 
A-whaling  he  would  go  no  more, 

(Renso,  boys,  Renso.)" 


What  a  whale  that  was  !  He  was  the  biggest 
fellow  I  ever  fell  in  with.  He  measured  sixty- 
four  feet  over  all,  and  he  had  a  sixteen-foot  jaw. 
His  flukes  stretched  sixteen  feet  from  tip  to  tip. 
He  made  a  hundred  and  thirty  barrels  of  oil. 

"  Think  what  that  old  spouter  must  have 
weighed,"  said  the  mate,  when  we  had  got  him 
coopered.  "  One  hundred  and  thirty  barrels  at 
eight  pounds  a  gallon  —  that  makes  —  let  me 
see  —  that  makes  "  (scratching  of  head,  squirming 
of  eyebrows,  smile  of  relief  at  last)  "  that  makes 


"WHALES  HAS  FEELIN'S."  141 

two    thousand,  seven  hundred  and   sixty  pounds 
of  oil." 

"Here,  here!"  I  said,  "  work  .  that  out  on 
paper,  Mr.  Wilson  ;  let's  be  accurate.  I'd  really 
like  to  get  at  the  facts." 

So  Mr.  Dorman  figured  it  out  in  unimpeachable 
black  and  white.  He  was  right.  Two  thousand, 
seven  hundred  and  sixty  pounds  of  oil ! 

"  Now,  Cap'n  Bobbins,"  he  continued,  "  you'll 
grant  it's  within  limits  to  say,  one-third  oil,  two- 
thirds  waste  ?" 

"  Yes,  a  fair  estimate ;  nobody  can  dispute 
that." 

"  Now,  then,"  bending  over  the  black  and 
white  and  cautiously  plying  the  pencil,  "  three- 
times  -  aught-  is-aught-th re e  - times-six-is-eight 
and-one-to-carry-three  -  times-se  ven-is-one-and 
one— to— carry— is— two  —  and  —  two  —  to  —  carry— three 

times— two 

There !     Eight  thousand,  two  hundred  and  eighty 
pounds.     Great  Caesar  !  " 


THE  GAM. 


I'd  ruther  gam  for  fifteen  minutes  than  slush  the  mast  for  fifteen  weeks." 

—Rubaiyat  of  Salthorse  Dooley. 


"WHAT  did  you  say  your  old  man's  name  was  ?  " 

"  Bobbins,  shipmates,  an'  as  thorough  a  seaman 
as  ever  trod  the  quarter-deck." 

"Strict?" 

"Yes  —  an'  no.  You  don't  feel  like  you  was 
being  governed,  an'  yit  ev'ry  man  aboard  done 
what  he  said,  ev'ry  time.  They  ain't  no  half- 
laughs  an'  sailor's  grins  about  him.  He's  straight 
up  an'  down,  like  a  yard  o'  pump  water !  " 

"  A  jolly  wag,  too !  "  broke  in  a  third  heavy 
voice.  "  You  ought  to  seen  him  play  it  on  them 
full-rig  Mohammedans  at  Johanna.  By  George, 
it  was  fun  !  Worth  a  man's  hull  advance  pay!  " 

Two  bells  !  One  o'clock  in  the  morning  !  And 
the  ships  were  gamming  still.  The  two  captains 
were  holding  high  converse  in  the  Clara  Belts 
cabin,  and  until  the  visiting  master  saw  fit  to 
return  to  his  vessel,  the  visiting  watch  from  the 
stranger  made  merry  in  the  Clara  Belts  fore 
castle.  It  was  a  delight  to  see  new  faces.  It  was 
a  rare  treat  to  hear  new  voices.  It  was  a  fine, 
novel  pleasure  to  match  yarns  all  round. 


THE    GAM.  143 

The  men  sat  on  the  stout  sea-chests  along  the 
sides  of  that  semi-circular  room  in  the  whale-ship's 
bow.  There  were  eighteen  men  in  all ;  nine 
were  hosts,  nine  were  guests.  Light  streamed 
down  upon  them  from  greasy  lamps  hung  up 
on  the  bitts.  The  air  was  dim  with  the  smoke 
of  cheap  tobacco. 

Gamming  is  distinctly  a  whaleman's  pastime. 
Merchant  ships  will  pass  each  other  in  mid-ocean 
without  a  sign  of  recognition,  steam-craft  will  go 
by  with  a  snobbish  air  that  almost  approaches 
hostility,  but  whale-ships,  when  they  meet,  are 
friendlier.  They  will  heave  to,  after  the  day's 
cruising  is  over  and  there  is  no  longer  any  chance 
of  raising  whales,  and  the  captain's  watch  of  one 
ship  will  entertain  the  captain's  watch  of  the  other 
ship.  Similarly,  the  two  chief  mates'  watches 
come  together.  This  is  called  "  gamming." 

On  that  particular  occasion  the  Clara  BelTs 
forecastle  had  been  a  hilarious  roistering  place 
since  seven  in  the  evening.  There  had  been 
songs  and  cards  and  smoke ;  and  smoke  and 
cards  and  songs.  There  had  been  long-spun, 
hair-lifting  narratives  of  whaling  adventures. 
There  had  also  been  news  from  home  —  some 
of  it  a  year  old,  but  still  very  startling  ;  and  some 
of  it  six  months  new,  every  word  an  eye-opener. 


144  THE    GAM. 

And  now  they  had  taken  to  telling  land-yarns  and 
stories  of  recent  ports.  Plainly,  the  gam  was 
about  gammed  out. 

"  Well,  chummy,  what  about  Johanna  ?  r 

"Dy'e  know  the  place?" 

"  Know  it  ?  Guess  I  do.  Here's  my  tarry 
flipper  on  it!  Know  Johanny,  do  I  ?  I  knowed 
Johanny  'fore  I'd  learnt  my  three  L's.  It's  got 
high  hills  'round  it,  an'  you  can  see  'em  forty  mile 
out  to  sea,  —  ain't  I  right  ?  An'  them  white  stone 
houses  in  the  town  —  they  ain't  no  taller,  b'gosh, 
than  a  whaleship's  hurricane  house.  Ain't  that 
so,  messmate  ?  An'  them  copper-colored  natives, 
an'  their  gaff- tops' 1  turbans,  an'  their  white  gowns 
as  if  they  was  goin'  to  be  buried  at  sea,  an'  the 
beetle-nut  they  chews  that  gits  their  teeth  as 
black  as  tar  an'  gits  the  deck  as  red  as  blood, 
b'gosh,  so  nothin'  short  o'  the  prayer-books  '11 
take  it  off  ag'in, —  don't  I  remember  'em  ?  Who 
says  I  ain't  been  to  Johanny  ?  " 

But  the  third  voice,  who  seemed  to  think  him 
self  particularly  predestined  and  foreordained  to 
man  the  pumps  and  keep  the  stories  flowing, 
urged  again,  "  What  about  the  old  man  and  the 
natives  ?  Tell  us,  chummy.  " 

So  "  Bilge  "  Dennett  took  his  pipe  out  of  his 
broad  mouth,  and  tapping  the  bowl  gently  against 


THE    GAM.  145 

the  sea-chest,  dumped  the  ashes  on  the  forecastle 
floor. 

"  Well,  boys,"  he  said,  looking  out  craftily  from 
under  his  ragged  red  eye-brows  and  lifting  an 
awkward  forefinger  in  a  jerky  gesture,  as  if  to 
say,  "  Keep  your  weather  eye  open  ;  she's  com 
ing  !  "  —  "  Well,  boys  ;  you  know  how  them 
sogerin'  Moslems  hates  pork,  'an  pork-grease,  an 
any  sort  o'  grease.  Worse  'n  Sheenies,  ain't  they  ? 

"  Well,  the  old  man,  he  comes  it  on  'em  mighty 
ship-shape.  He'd  clap  a  lump  o'  butter  in  the 
palm  o'  his  flipper  just  'fore  he  come  up  on  deck 
in  the  morin' ;  an  pretty  soon  a  brown  Ay-rab 
would  sail  up  to  him  to  talk  tradin'  'an  that  like  ; 
an'  when  them  two  spliced  hands  it  was  worse  'n 
whales  an'  killers. 

"  Then,  by  the  bloody  wars,  they  was  a 
tornado  !  That  Moslem  would  be  brought  up  all 
sfandin',  an'  he'd  jump  back  an'  pull  his  sheath- 
knife  out  o'  his  belt  and  strike  a  figger  like  a 
villian  in  a  play,  an'  sing  out,  i  If  you  wa'  n't  my 
friend,  I'd  kill  you  in  a  minute  ! '  You  ought  to 
see  it,  lads. 

"  Then  the  old  man  would  sing  out  for  the 
cabin-boy  to  turn  to  an'  fetch  a  basin  o'  water  an' 
a  clean  towel,  an'  when  the  Ay— rab  had  swabbed 
his  flipper  he'd  feel  chummy  again  and  then  them 


10 


146  THE    GAM. 

two  would  love  each  other  just  like  nothin' 
oncommon  'd  happened." 

An  appreciative  grin  spread  over  the  faces  of 
the  listeners. 

"Just  wait  till  we  put  in  at  Johanna,"  said 
one ;  "  we'll  butter  them  natives ;  we'll  make 
buttered  rolls  of  the  whole  crew  of  'em  ;  blowed 
if  we  wont." 

Then  Bilge  resumed. 

"  That  ain't  the  only  thing  the  old  man  done  at 
Johanna,  bless  his  old  soul.  One  day  he  goes  on 
shore  an'  cruises  'round  with  a  Moslem  merchant 
intendin'  to  go  to  the  brown  man's  house.  All  on 
a  sudden  a  bell  rings  out  from  a  big  white  mosque, 
an'  down  drops  the  brown  man  on  his  knees  like 
he  was  shot  —  down  killick  !  —  an'  he  clapped  his 
head  three  times  on  the  ground  an'  had  over  a 
long  pious  chanty  in  Ay-rab  lingo,  an'  then  up  he 
got  ag'in  an'  looked  'round  for  the  old  man.  But 
the  old  man,  bless  his  soul,  he'd  forged  ahead 
while  the  brown  man  was  hove  down,  an'  so  he 
come  up  to  the  house  first.  Ha,  ha  ! 

"  Now  you  know  how  shy  them  Johanna 
women  be." 

"  Guess  I  do,"  broke  in  the  Man  Who  Had 
Been  There  Himself.  "  You  bet  I  do  !  You  can 
gamble  on  that,  night  an'  day,  b'gosh  !  You  cruise 


THE    GAM.  147 

around  them  crooked  streets,  lookin',  an  looking 
an'  lookin',  but  b'gosh  you  don't  raise  a  gal  ! 
Them  women  gits  from  house  to  house  by  goin' 
aloft  an'  sneaking'  along  them  flat  roofs,  b'gosh  ! 
An'  a  chap  don't  see  his  Nancy  till  they're  spliced 
in  the  mosque  by  some  sky-pilot  or  Holy  Joe  or 
other,  or  whatever  them  Ay-rabs  calls  him  !  " 

"  Aye-aye,  messmate,  we  all  know  you've  been 
there,  but  Bilge  Dennett  is  holding  the  yarn. 
You  ain't.  Go  on,  Bilgy !  What  did  the  old  man 
do  when  he  dropped  his  mud-hook  in  the  Ay-rab's 
shanty?"  The  speaker  was  one  of  the  visiting 
watch.  The  Man  Who  Had  Been  There  Himself 
subsided. 

"  Well,"  Bilgy  resumed,  relieved  at  being  no 
longer  interrupted,  "  'taint  so  much  what  he  done 
inside  as  what  he  never  done  at  all  when  he  first 
cume  up  to  the  door.  They's  a  kind  o'  harbor 
law  to  Johanna  it  says  you  must  give  three  loud 
raps  on  the  door  an'  a  good  waitin'  spell  'tween 
the  raps  so's  to  let  the  women  folks  know  a  man's 
a-comin'  an'  put  for  shelter.  That's  the  rule  o' 
the  road  an'  there's  the  devil  to  pay  if  you  don't 
sail  by  it. 

"Well,  the  old  man,  bless  his  jolly  toplights, 
he  just  give  the  door  one  good  thump  an'  then  in 
he  forged  all  ataunto. 


148  THE    GAM. 

"  There  in  the  cabin  —  I  mean,  there  in  the 
parlor, —  was  the  Ay-rab's  wife  and  daughter, 
with  not  more'n  half  their  standin'  riggin'  on, 
naked  from  their  waists  up  !  Heavens,  wa'n't  they 
gallied  !  They  jumped  for  safety  like  a  brace  o' 
jack-rabbits. 

"  Then  that  Ay-rab  begun  cussin'  worse' n  forty 
pirates  on  a  raft !  Thunder  an'  lightnin',  but 
didn't  he  give  it  to  the  old  man !  but  the  old 
man  just  keeps  a'  talkin'  business  —  so  many 
fathom  o'  cotton  cloth  for  so  many  live  hogs,  so 
many  pounds  o'  gunpowder  for  so  many  cords  o' 
wood,  an'  so  on  an'  so  on  —  till  at  last  the  brown 
man  cools  off  as  cool  as  a  cask  o'  sperm  oil  all  fit 
to  be  coopered. 

"  An  frien's  an'  fellow  cit'zens,  as  they  say  in 
town-meetin'  back  in  old  Vermont,  that's  how  I 
have  the  honor  (a-hem)  to  be  sailin'  under  the 
only  live  Yankee  that  ever  saw  a  woman  in 
Johanna." 

There  was  an  evident  demand  for  Johanna 
stories.  The  Clara  Bell's  men  liked  to  hear  the 
captain's  prowess  enlarged  upon.  The  strangers 
liked  to  learn  all  they  could  about  Johanna  so  as 
not  to  be  altogether  green  when  they  came  into 
port,  and  every  Jack  Tar  of  them  was  vowing  in 
his  innermost  heart  of  hearts  and  swearing  by  all 


THE    GAM  149 

that's  ship-shape  that  hed  make  those  Arabs  dance 
a  break-down  and  teach  them  just  a  few  new  steps 
into  the  bargain. 

"  Come,  Bilgy,  my  jolly  sea-dog,  tell  'em  about 
the  coffee.  That'll  start  their  stanchions!  " 

"  Yes,  Bilgy,  tell  'em  how  the  steward  hazed 
them  Ay-rab  waisters  !  " 

"  Aye-aye,  Bilgy,  clew  up  your  jawin'  tackle, 
an'  you'll  make  these  here  jolly  strangers  grin 
like  so  many  right  whales  !  " 

"  Come,  tumble  up,  my  lively  hearty,  out  with 
the  twister!" 

"  On  one  condition  an'  one  only,"  said  Bilge 
Dennett,  "  an'  that  condition  is  this,  mess-mates  : 
I'll  spin  the  yarn,  but  only  after  that  there  man- 
o'-war's-man's  sung  us  another  rare  old  chanty. 
So,  Four-decker,  give  us  a  broadside  !  Can't  you 
bellow  the  '  Commodore  ',  or  have  you  clean  forgot 
it,  so  long  since  you  was  a  blue-jacket?" 

"  The  '  Commodore  '  —  give  us  the  '  Commo 
dore,'  "  the  sailors  shouted,  "give  us  the  '  Commo 
dore',  or  we'll  scuttle  your  old  hulk  and  send  you 
plumb  to  Jimmy  Squarefoot." 

The  blue-jacket — or,  as  some  would  say,  the 
jolly  —  was  proud  of  his  former  service  in  the 
navy,  so  proud,  in  fact,  that  he  thought  he  had 
stepped  down  a  ratline  or  two  in  reducing  himself 


150  THE    GAM. 

to  a  mere  mercenary  blubber-hunter.  He  had 
been  waiting  all  the  evening  for  somebody  to  call 
for  a  line-of-battle-ship  yarn,  but  this  invitation  to 
sing  was  the  nearest  approach  to  such  solicitation. 
He  therefore  jumped  at  the  chance.  He  assumed 
for  the  moment  an  air  of  aggrieved  timidity,  but 
when  the  crowd  insisted,,  he  reluctantly,  but  firmly, 
submitted. 

Four-decker  was  a  stout,  deep-chested,  beef- 
laden  seaman  with  a  cavernous  mouth  and  a 
ponderous  bass  voice.  He  sang  with  the  gusto  of 
a  music-hall  soloist  and  an  occasional  tragic  gesture 
enlivened  the  ballad  :  — 


"  It  was  on  a  dark  and  stormy  night, 
The  wind  nor' west  did  blow; 
And  from  the  ship's  high,  lofty  bows, 
That  were  pitching  to  and  fro, 
Could  be  heard  loud,  rattling  peals  of  thunder, 
And  fierce,  wild  lightnings  fly. 
Hail,  rain  and  sleet  and  thunders  meet, 
And  dismal  was  the  sky. 

"  'Twas  early  on  next  morning 

Our  brave  commander  said 
'  Whoever  has  the  lookout,  go  up  to  the  mast-head, 

And  keep  a  good  lookout,  my  boy, 

And  try  what  you  can  see !  ' 

And  he  soon  cried  out  from  the  mast-head, 
'  Two  large  ships  under  our  lee ! ' 

"  Now  one  was  off  our  quarter, 
The  other  off  our  cat-head. 
We  cleared  away  for  action, 
As  our  brave  commander  said. 


THE    GAM.  151 


The  job  being  done,  it  counted  one, 
And  lasted  from  twelve  till  four. 
And  what  was  fearful  to  relate, 
We  sank  the  French  Commodore  ! 

Xow  five  sailors  we  picked  up  were  Frenchmen, 

And  six  were  from  haughty  Spain. 

We  picked  them  up  from  off  the  wreck, 

That  had  floated  from  the  main. 

Soon  we'll  send  them  to  proud  France, 

Where  they  had  been  before, 

To  tell  the  proud  French  admiral 

We  sank  his  Commodore.'1'1 


The  singer  wound  up  his  song  with  a  lusty 
cadenza  that  made  the  forecastle  fairly  shiver 
with  its  vibrant,  tragic  resonance.  It  was  easy 
to  see  that  Fou^-decker  considered  himself  entirely 
responsible  for  the  sinking  of  the  Commodore. 
You  would  have  thought  it  his  habit,  had  you 
heard  him  sing,  to  engage  a  foreign  corvette  or 
sloop-of-war  every  ten  or  fifteen  minutes. 

There  was  a  hearty  round  of  applause,  much 
kicking  of  heels  against  sea-chests  and  a  prodi 
gious  clapping  of  hardened  hards,  but  no  verbal 
suggestion  of  an  encore.  A  whaleman  never  dips 
his  colors  to  man-of-war  service. 

It  was  a  trying  moment,  but  Four-decker  was 
quick  to  see  the  dignified  way  of  escape  out  of 
his  embarrassment. 

"  Now,  Bilge,"  he  said,  with  an  assumption  of 
fervent  enthusiasm,  "it's  your  trick  at  the  wheel!" 


152  THE    GAM. 

"  Yes,  Bilge,"  shouted  the  Social  Pump,  "  tell 
'em  about  that  '  much-good  '  coffee." 

"  Well,  boys,"  Bilge  Dermet  resumed,  "  we  get 
bully  good  coffee  aboard  o'  this  here  barkie,  an' 
you  can  bet  your  spare  yards  on  that.  An' 
when  them  Ay-rabs  come  on  board  to  trade, 
the  steward,  bless  his  soul,  he'd  lure  the  whole 
school  of  'em  into  the  cabin  an'  treat  'em  to  hot 
coffee  all  round.  An'  that  jolly  flunky  knows 
how  to  mix  the  drink  so  it'll  lift  your  hair  like 
a  flaw  o'  wind.  It's  the  real  thing  —  none  o' 
your  water-bewitched,  /  tell  you !  " 

"  Kind  o'  lives  up  to  the  rule  they  have  in  Ryo 
Janeero,  I  reckon,"  added  the  Experienced  Man, 
parenthetically.  "  Jolly  good  rule,  too,  b'gosh  !  " 

"  What's  that?  "  queried  Bilge  Dennett. 

"  Why,  them  yellow-belly  Portugees  say,  '  Cof 
fee,  to  be  Al,  must  be  black  as  night,  strong  as 
death,  an'  hot  as  hell !'  — that's  the  rule,  b'gosh, 
an'  you  can  bet  your  rudder  them  Dagoes  lives  up 
to  it !  " 

"  Ay  aye,"  said  Bilge,  "  that's  the  chart  our 
flunky  sails  by,  bless  his  tarry  soul,  an'  he  never 
let's  the  doctor  touch  the  mixture  when  he  wants 
to  come  out  extra  man-o' -war-fashion.  An'  as  I 
was  sayin',  mess-mates,  them  turban  Ay—rabs  took 
to  it  like  whales  take  to  water. 


THE    GAM.  153 

"  '  Much  good,  much  good  ! '  they'd  say  an' 
hold  out  their  cups  for  more. 

"  Well,  this  sort  o'  thing  made  the  steward 
mighty  popular,  /  tell  you  ;  he  could  'a'  been 
king  o'  the  island  any  time  he'd  say  the  word  ; 
but  that  everlastin'  coffee  cookin'  got  to  be  a 
pesky  nuisance,  an'  at  last  the  flunky  hit  on  a 
trick  to  chop  it  off  square. 

"  So  one  day  he  hailed  them  traders  an1  says  to 
'em,  i  Come  down  in  the  cabin,  gents,  an'  splice 
the  main-brace  with  a  cup  of  Al  coffee ! ' 

"  So  down  they  climbs,  every  brown  Alladin's 
son  of  'em,  an'  that  cabin  was  as  full  of  Ay— rabs 
as  the  hold  was  full  of  casks.  An'  then  the  flunky 
serves  out  that  coffee,  made  a-purpose,  bless  his 
spankin'  soul, —  black  an'  hot  an'  strong  —  till  it 
lifted  their  turbans  for  'em  boys,  an'  made  'em 
wiggle  in  their  chairs.  (  Much  good,  much  good, 
much  good  ! '  they  yelled,  an'  the  flunkey  kep' 
a-pourin'  an'  a-pourin'  till  he'd  emptied  the  whole 
blessed  pot. 

"  (  Well,  gents  ',  he  says,  i  did  you  ever  swaller 
such  coffee,  in  all  your  heathen  born  days  ?  Come, 
gents,  did  you  ? '  an'  them  Ay-rabs  says,  4  No, 
most  honorable,  we  never  done  it.' 

"  An'  then,  boys,  what  do  you  think  ?  That 
flunky  runs  a  fork  down  in  the  coffee  pot,  and 


154  THE    GAM. 

claws  'round  in  them  black  grounds,  an'  fishes  out 
a  long  bit  o'  salt  pork  rind,  an'  holds  it  up  front 
o'  their  crazy  top-lights. 

"  Then  you -ought  to  seen  the  hurricane.  That 
shiny  pork  knocked  them  Ay-rabs  alow  an'  aloft. 
They  was  hit  with  the  horrors.  Their  head-lights 
stuck  out  so  you  could  hang  your  hat  on  'em. 
They  turned  from  brown  to  white. 

"  An'  afore  you  could  sing  the  first  line  of 
6  Jack  Robinson  '  the  whole  school  of  'em  tumbled 
up  like  the  watch  below  when  '  all  hands'  is  called. 
Out  them  Ay-rabs  bounced  —  oh,  boys,  it  was 
worth  a  bottle  o'  close-reef  to  see  'em!  They 
scudded  for  the  ship's  side  like  a  dozen  white 
yachts  in  a  gale,  and  there  they  tickled  their  hot- 
copper  gullets  with  their  finger-ends  so  as  to  git 
clear  o'  that  '  much  good '  coffee  !  An'  mateys, 
that  ended  the  coffee  nuisance  for  good  an'  all,  / 
tell  you." 

No  sooner  was  the  story  finished  than  there  was 
a  prodigious  banging  on  the  forecastle  scuttle, 
followed  by  a  sharp  call  of  command.  The 
stranger  crew  were  summoned  on  deck  to  return 
to  their  ship,  and  the  gam  was  over. 

I  have  ever  since  pitied  the  Moslems  of  Johanna 
for  the  treatment  they  must  have  got  from  the 
whalemen  who  were  so  elaborately  coached,  that 
night,  in  the  Clara  Bell's  forecastle. 


THE    GAM. 


155 


AUGUSTINE  BAY. 

NOT  a  story  this  time.  Instead,  a  string  of 
stories.  For  things  come  about  at  sea,  as  upon 
land,  without  much  reference  to  literary  values. 
They  simply  occur.  Sometimes  they  are  dramatic ; 
oftener  not.  Sometimes  they  steer  towards  a 
climax;  oftener  they  don't. 

So  this  is  a  plain  account  of  what  happened  — 
an  account  of  what  happened  to  me  and  my  crew 
and  my  ship  when  the  lot  of  us  called  at  Augus 
tine  Bay. 

The  Clara  Bell  had  been  leaking.  It  was  a 
trifle,  said  I  at  first ;  but  now  it  got  worse.  The 
pumps  were  at  it  all  the  while,  not  working  hard, 
but  working.  Clearly,  it  was  time  to  worry. 

Searching  the  damp,  dark  hold,  we  made  out  at 
last  the  treacherous  spot.  There,  against  the 
stern-post,  about  two  feet  below  the  water-line,  we 
found  the  sea-brine  oozing  in. 

I  should  have  called  it  tough  luck,  this  wretched 
obstacle  to  our  voyage,  had  we  not  been  every 
man  Jack  of  us  ready  to  welcome  such  inter 
ruption.  For  our  cruise  was  up.  Port  was  the 
place  for  us,  so  we  put  away. 

Out  of  the  sea  rose  the  green,  luxuriantly 
wooded  Madagascan  coast,  —  within  the  coast  a 


AUGUSTINE    BAY.  157 

lovely  harbor,  the  harbor  of  Augustine  Bay. 
Entering  there,  we  dropped  our  mudhook  off 
Tent  Rock.  Very  well  named,  I  call  that  rock, 
for  it  is  shaped  like  a  tent  and  as  white  as  new 
canvas.  It  is  just  a  mile  from  the  shore. 

I  can't  say  how  it  is  now,  but  in  those  old  days 
whoever  bethought  him  to  land  at  Augustine  Bay 
must  first  make  terms  with  the  savages.  I  knew 
that  the  fuzzy  fellows  would  soon  come  off  to  treat 
with  us.  Accordingly  I  cleared  for  action.  For 
savages  are  thieves,  the  whole  world  over,  and 
whatever  may  be  said  in  favor  of  valor,  dis 
cretion  is  the  better  part  of  holding  your  own. 
Every  dispensable  article  went  below  -  -  rope, 
spare  belaying-pins,  buckets,  craft  —  lest  those 
rogues  should  make  off  with  them. 

Now  I  confess  to  a  weakness  for  dogs,  particu 
larly  for  big  Newfoundland  dogs,  and  most 
particularly  for  my  beloved  black  Rover.  I  was 
bound  that  no  sooty  Madagascan  should  capture 
that  faithful  friend.  I  therefore  shut  Rover  up. 
I  tucked  him  into  my  room  off  the  cabin  and  left 
him  there  for  safe  keeping. 

And  in  that  I  builded  better  than  I  knew. 

Hardly  had  I  got  upon  deck  again  when  the 
canoes,  deeply  laden  with  their  savage  freight, 
came  splashing  for  us.  Then  there  was  a  wild 


158  AUGUSTINE    BAY. 

scramble  up  the  ship's  side.  The  natives  climbed 
up  over  the  bulwarks  like  ants  out  of  a  broken 
hill.  They  were  terrible  fellows.  They  had  grass 
mats  around  their  loins.  Some  had  arrayed  them 
selves  in  dirty  flannel  shirts.  Their  women  wore 
nondescript  garments  of  cotton  cloth,  arid  had 
their  hair  done  up  in  little  knots  like  nutmegs 
and  covered  with  grease. 

We  set  to  business  directly.  The  chief  and  his 
cabinet  —  "  big  men/'  they  say  —  followed  me 
down  into  the  cabin,  where  the  pow-wow  began. 
I  wanted  to  land  and  to  recruit  the  Clara  Bell 
with  wood  and  water.  I  wanted  to  buy  that 
privilege  cheap.  They,  on  their  part,  wanted 
cotton  cloth.  They  wanted  all  they  could  get 
of  it.  And  that's  where  we  disagreed. 

Whatever  those  fuzzies  thought  of  my  seaman 
ship,  they  evidently  held  a  very  low  estimate  of 
my  diplomacy  ;  but  in  that  they  were  mistaken. 
For  we  had  gammed  with  a  ship  from  that  very 
port  and  I  knew  the  ropes  like  any  old  sea-dog. 
I  knew  just  how  much  I  ought  to  give,  and  just 
where  I  ought  to  draw  the  line.  The  regulation 
tariff  was  thirty  yards  to  the  chief  and  five 
fathoms  to  each  of  his  advisers.  That  I  offered 
and  there  I  stuck. 

But  time  was  precious  and  I  knew  that,  too. 
For  I  had  two  tribes  to  deal  with.  These  chaps 


AUGUSTINE    BAY.  159 

at  Tent  Kock  could  not  give  me  leave  to  get 
water  at  the  head  of  the  river.  Another  tribe 
from  that  quarter  would  come  along  directly  and 
I  must  get  rid  of  present  company  before  that. 
But  how  the  rascals  hung  on  !  They  haggled 
over  prices  hour  after  hour.  They  were  like  a 
batch  of  Soloman  Levis.  Indeed,  I  believe  they 
were  descended  from  the  long-lost  tribes  of  Israel. 

I  was  pretty  well  driven  to  destraction,  when 
suddenly  Rover  burst  the  bonds  of  his  imprison 
ment. 

Out  he  bounded  into  the  cabin  and  then  —  oh, 
lands  and  seas,  how  those  chumps  did  scoot ! 
They  had  never  seen  a  dog  before  !  They  jumped 
out  of  that  cabin  like  electrified  jack-rabbits. 
Rover  followed  hard  and  the  whole  tribe,  save 
only  the  chief,  made  off  over  the  ship's  bows, 
each  one  taking  the  cloth  he  had  held  at  the 
moment  of  Rover's  appearance  —  some  content 
with  only  a  fathom,  others  counting  themselves 
lucky  with  a  strip  three  yards  long. 

As  for  the  chief,  his  knees  were  knocking 
together  and  his  eyes  were  starting  from  their 
sockets.  He  made  terms  in  a  hurry. 

But  when  the  up-river  folk  came  off,  I  had  to 
be  generous.  I  wanted  to  tow  our  raft  of  casks  a 
long  way  up  their  river  to  get  fresh  water,  and  I 


160  AUGUSTINE    BAY. 

was  aware  that  we  should  have  to  wait  over  night 
before  we  could  bring  them  back  to  the  ship.  We 
must  make  fast  friends  with  the  natives  or  they 
would  steal  the  hoops  off  our  casks  and  then,  so 
far  as  practical  purposes  went,  there  wouldn't  be 
any  casks. 

We  made  ourselves  "  solid  "  with  both  chiefs, 
and  according  to  agreement  they  left  a  native 
detective  on  board  to  make  sure  we  were  not 
troubled  with  thieving.  Little  good  came  of  that, 
however,  for  the  detective  was  the  worst  thief  of 
the  lot.  That,  please  observe,  is  saying  a  great 
deal.  The  gift  for  misappropriation  is  nowhere 
more  superbly  developed  than  in  Madagascar. 
And  their  impudence,  combined  with  their  thiev 
ing  —  pity  the  mariner  who  must  restrain  himself 
from  bloodshed  under  such  torment !  No  sort  of 
sanctity  is  proof  against  their  ravages. 

One  day  a  Yankee  clipper  came  to  anchor  in 
the  harbor  with  the  stars  and  stripes  at  her  peak. 

While  the  captain  and  his  officers  were  at  sup 
per,  the  fuzzies  hauled  down  Old  Glory  and  made 
off  with  it.  The  Tent  Rock  chief,  so  I  have 
heard,  had  it  made  up  into  a  suit  of  clothes,  and 
was  seen  by  a  British  crew,  a  few  weeks  later, 
strutting  about  in  it  like  a  coal-tar  Yankee  Doodle. 
But  all  that  happened  after  we  had  left. 


AUGUSTINE    BAY.  161 

Often,  while  we  lay  in  port,  the  up-river  chief 
and  his  dusky  queen  and  their  suite  came  off  to 
visit  us.  We  counted  that  no  serious  affliction, 
for  in  Madagascar  you  can  entertain  royalty  on 
a  very  slender  outlay.  We  would  put  a  huge 
wash-tub  on  the  quarter  deck,  pour  two  or  three 
pails  of  water  into  it,  sweeten  the  water  with  a 
quart  of  molasses,  and  add  ten  or  a  dozen  pounds 
of  ship's  biscuit.  The  royal  cortege  would  squat 
round  the  tub  —  a  guzzling,  grinning,  jabbering 
ring  of  boobies  —  thinking  themselves  lavishly 
entertained. 

Big  fun  we  called  that.  But  that  was  not  our 
only  sport  at  Augustine  Bay.  In  fact  it  was 
as  nothing  beside  our  mischievous  practice  of 
medicine. 

One  day  a  native  came  aboard  clutching  his 
aching  belly,  and  groaning  in  misery.  I  knew 
what  he  wanted,  and  gave  him  a  nip  of  New 
England  rum.  Instantaneous  cure  ! 

Next  day,  however,  Mr.  Fuzzy  came  back  for 
further  treatment.  His  case  was  serious.  He 
said  he  had  been  ill  for  a  year.  One  dose  was 
not  enough  to  eradicate  a  chronic  disorder.  Of 
course  not,  who  ever  said  it  was  ? 

I  therefore  turned  my  patient  over  to  the  mate, 
who  saw  a  chance  to  make  something  out  of  the 


162  AUGUSTINE    BAY. 

Fuzzy' s  weakness.  The  two  hit  on  a  capital 
agreement  —  the  Fuzzy  to  bring  a  bucket  of 
beans  on  board  every  day,  the  mate  to  "  cure " 
the  Fuzzy. 

Now  that  mate  of  mine  had  ideas  of  his  own, 
and  this  is  the  series  of  doses  he  gave  that  poor 
heathen :  — 

First  day, —  half-glass  of  rum  and  four  table- 
spoonfuls  castor  oil. 

Second  day, —  holxlrops,  sugar  and  water. 

Third-day, —  vinegar  and  pepper-sauce. 

Fourth  day, —  molasses  and  mustard. 

Fifth  day, —  glass  of  brandy  with  red  pepper. 

Sixth  day, —  cayenne  pepper  and  cheese. 

Seventh  day  —  onions,  mustard  and  Chili  sauce. 

Eighth  day, —  rum  and  castor  oil,  same  as 
first  day. 

Ninth  day  —  arnica,  paregoric  and  mustard, 
equal  parts. 

Tenth  day, —  straight  whiskey. 

With  what  result?  The  very  best,  the  very 
best  result  in  the  world.  The  black  beggar  stuck 
it  out  bravely,  patient  to  the  bitter  end.  He 
would  take  his  medicine  with  utter  resignation. 
He  would  twist  his  coarse  face  into  hideous 
grimaces.  He  would  go  away  feeling  as  if  he  had 
swallowed  a  bonfire.  But  when  the  time  expired 


AUGUSTINE    BAY.  163 

he  was  thoroughly  cured.  As  is  commonly  the 
case,  he  got  well  in  spite  of  his  medicine ! 

Of  course  we  had  the  usual  port  routine  to 
follow  up.  Beside  water  and  wood,  we  laid  in  a 
supply  of  beans  —  much  like  Lima  beans,  and  a 
lot  of  beef  and  mutton.  The  live  beef  was  a  sight. 
The  bullocks  were  large  and  fat,  with  humps  on 
their  fore-shoulders.  Splendid  fellows  they  were, 
sleek  as  silk,  the  finest  I  ever  saw !  And  the 
prices !  —  you  could  buy  them  for  an  old  flint 
lock  musket  and  a  few  brass-headed  tacks.  (Why 
the  tacks  ?  you  ask.  For  ornament.  The  savages 
pound  them  into  the  wooden  parts  of  their  guns.) 
We  would  purchase  those  bullocks  on  the  shore 
and  then  we  would  swim  them  off  to  the  ship 
and  hoist  them  in  by  their  long  horns. 

Then,  too,  there  was  the  matter  of  the  leak. 
That  had  to  be  attended  to  immediately.  We 
took  the  cargo  out  of  the  after  part  of  the  ship  to 
lighten  her,  and  then  we  found  the  cause  of  the 
trouble. 

There  are  no  accidents  in  the  world  —  never 
were  —  never  will  be.  Everything  has  its  cause, 
and  that  particular  thing,  the  leak,  had  this 
cause  —  the  copper  bottom  had  not  been  securely 
soldered  about  the  stern-post.  Through  the  tiny 
water-course  thus  left  exposed,  the  worms  had  got 


164  AUGUSTINE   BAY. 

in  —  puny  creatures,  so  small  you  could  hardly 
see  them  with  the  naked  eye,  yet  they  had  bored 
those  solid  white-oak  planks  into  a  sieve  like  a 
honey-comb.  A  blow  from  a  hammer  on  the 
worm-eaten  parts  would  crush  the  wood  in  like  an 
egg  shell.  There  was  a  weak  spot,  easily  repaired, 
that  might  have  sent  us  to  Davy  Jones. 

Before  we  left  Augustine  Bay,  a  fine  clipper 
swept  up  the  harbor  and  anchored  near  us,  the 
French  tri-color  at  her  peak.  According  to  the 
best  accounts,  she  had  come  into  port  to  procure 
a  cargo  of  laborers.  Innocent  word  enough,  — 
laborers  !  Ah,  but  she  would  take  them  to  the 
island  of  Bourbon.  There  they  would  be  paid 
twelve  dollars  a  month  for  seven  years'  service. 

And  what  of  that  ?  Just  this :  they  would 
never  be  able  to  buy  their  way  out  of  bondage. 
The  seven  years  up,  they  would  all  be  in  debt  and 
would  have  to  remain  as  slaves,  powerless  even  to 
return  home.  It  was  slavery  in  disguise. 

Out  of  the  remote  interior  of  the  island  came 
that  sombre  procession.  A  slave  trader  had  them 
in  leash.  He  herded  them  all  the  way  to  the 
shore,  and  he  himself  brought  them,  load  after 
load,  aboard  the  French  ship.  Once  on  deck  the 
poor  creatures  were  examined  by  a  sort  of  veteri 
nary,  who  punched  their  breasts,  pinched  their 


AUGUSTINE    BAY.  165 

limbs  and  eyed  their  teeth  as  if  he  were  apprais 
ing  so  much  horseflesh.  Oh,  it  was  a  horrid  sight ! 
And  I  saw  it  done. 

In  the  midst  of  the  operation  a  man-of-war, 
cruising  for  slavers,  entered  the  harbor.  A  boat 
sped  swiftly  across  the  water,  and  the  officers 
boarded  the  Frenchman.  But  nothing  could  be 
contrived  to  save  the  poor  wretches.  The  French 
man's  papers  were  flawless.  Dastardly  though 
the  fact,  it  was  cloaked  in  a  legal  fiction.  No  one 
had  a  right  to  interfere. 

The  process  of  examination  went  steadily 
forward.  The  young  and  strong  were  taken. 
The  old  and  decrepit  were  rejected.  Lucky, 
indeed,  were  the  physically  unfit. 

When  our  repairs  were  done  and  all  supplies 
got  in  and  stowed  down,  we  took  our  mudhook 
and  put  to  sea,  beating  out  of  Augustine  Bay  in 
the  early  afternoon. 

Down  into  the  southern  sea  sank  those  pleasant 
shores,  slowly  and  almost  reluctantly,  but  bold 
against  the  far  horizon  we  could  still  see  the 
ugly  form  of  the  slaver,  swift  upon  her  way 
toward  Bourbon. 


THE  ALBATROSS. 


"  God  save  the«,  Ancient  Mariner, 

From  the  fiends  that  plague  thee  thus! 
Why  looks  thou  so  ?    With  my  cross-bow 
I  shot  the  Albatross." 

—  Coleridge. 


"  Cap'n  Bobbins,  I  beg  you,  don't!  " 

"Don't—?" 

"Don't  kill  the  albatross." 

"  And,  pray,  why  shouldn't  I  ?  " 

"  Because,"  said  the  mate  of  the  Thomas  Pope, 
"  it's  well  known,  sir,  that  terrible  consequences 
follow  the  murder  of  one  of  those  white  birds.  I 
say  murder  —  for  I  can  tell  you,  sir,  it's  nothing 
less.  Haven't  you  heard  that  the  souls  of  dead 
bo's'ns  and  sailors  go  soaring  about  in  these 
latitudes  in  the  form  of  albatrosses  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,''  I  answered,  "  You  see  I  never 
lived  in  the  fo'c's'le,  Mr.  Russell.  My  first  voyage 
I  shipped  as  cabin-boy,  and  my  second  voyage  I 
went  as  third  mate  in  the  old  Balaena.  So,  you 
see,  I  never  got  much  acquainted  with  the  fo'c's'le 
superstitions." 

"What!"  Russell  exclaimed,  "has  no  one 
ever  told  you  how  dangerous  it  is  to  kill  an 
albatross  ?  " 


THE    ALBATROSS.  167 

Preparations  for  albatross-catching  were  already 
going  bravely  forward  in  the  waist.  The  sailors 
were  busy  rigging  a  long,  stout  fish-line  with  a 
big  cod-hook  at  the  end.  They  were  getting  a 
liberal  slice  of  salt-pork  to  bait  the  hook.  That 
never  fails. 

"  Well,"  said  my  mate,  "  I  notice  that  my 
opinions  don't  weigh  any  too  heavy  with  you; 
but  tell  me,  sir,  have  you  ever  killed  an  albatross 
before?" 

"  Lots  of  them.  Last  time  I  was  rounding  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope  I  killed  half-a-dozen.  Why, 
if  I'm  not  mistaken,  it  was  only  a  few  sea-miles 
from  where  we  are  just  now." 

"  And  no  unpleasant  consequence  followed  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  to  be  frank  with  you,  I  did  come 
near  losing  rny  ship  within  a  few  days  after  that." 

"  See,"  said  Kussell,  "  see  how  that  bird  hovers 
over  the  main-mast  truck  !  The  creature  must 
measure  at  least  ten  feet  across  those  wings ! 
And  think  of  it,  sir,  the  albatross  has  followed 
us  for  three  days  now  —  or  is  it  four  ?  But 
pardon  the  interruption  —  what  was  that  about 
all  but  losing  your  ship  ?  " 

"  Why,  it  was  on  one  of  my  voyages  homeward 
from  the  Indian  Ocean.  We  were  lying  to  in  a 
gale.  And  all  of  a  sudden  the  wind  changed  and 


168  THE    ALBATROSS. 

brought  us  into  the  trough  of  the  sea,  so  that  we 
were  forced  to  wear  ship  to  keep  our  decks  from 
being  swept  of  everything  and  losing  our  boats. 
*  Meet  her  when  she  shakes/  the  mate  shouted, 
6  full  for  stays !  '  But  when  the  wheel  was  put 
up,  and  the  ship  had  gathered  headway,  a  great, 
rolling  swell  caught  her  bodily,  and  turned  her 
over  on  her  beam-ends.  There  we  lay,  apparently 
undecided  which  way  to  go,  trucks  up  or  keel  up. 
I  lived  twenty  years  in  twenty  seconds  !  Then 
the  awful  moments  of  suspense  went  by.  The 
ship  righted  herself  angrily  —  mad  as  a  whale 
in  his  flurry  —  and  we  came  round  breasting 
the  sea!" 

"  A  marvellous  escape  !  "  Russell  observed,  with 
the  air  of  a  mathematician  about  to  say  Q.  E.  D. 

"  Yes,  a  marvellous  escape  !  Many  a  good 
stanch  hooker  has  gone  to  Davy  Jones  just  that 
way.  I  was  lucky  to  have  a  long-legged  ship. 
If  she  had  been  one  of  those  round-ribbed,  flat- 
bottomed  butter-boxes  they  build  by  the  mile 
down  in  Maine  and  saw  off  any  length  you 
order,  we  should  surely  have  turned  turtle  and 
never  been  heard  from  again  !  " 

"  Aha  !  "  said  Russell,  with  a  twinkle  of  triumph 
in  his  little  black  eyes,  "  Seems  to  me  your  own 
experience  confirms  the  truth  of  my  convictions  !  " 


THE    ALBATROSS.  169 

"  0,  not  at  all !  "  I  answered.  "  If  iny  logic 
serves  me  well,  all  it  proves  is  that  when  you  get 
into  a  mighty  bad  scrape  you  get  out  of  it  unhurt. 
If  killing  albatrosses  has  anything  to  do  with  that, 
why,  where' s  the  harm  of  killing  them  ?  It 
strikes  me,  Mr.  Russell,  we'd  better  take  special 
pains  to  kill  a  few  birds,  you  and  I,  (or  murder, 
them,  if  you  prefer),  as  a  precautionary  measure! 
At  any  rate,  we'll  have  that  big  bird  yonder,  I 
reckon,  the  very  next  swoop  he  makes.  These 
bo's'ns'  ghosts  of  yours  don't  show  any  very 
dainty  taste  in  the  bait  they  snap  at  —  eh,  Mr. 
Russell?" 

Russell  was  about  to  venture  a  reply,  when 
suddenly,  just  as  I  had  predicted,  the  albatross 
swooped  down  upon  that  irresistible  bait  of  salt 
pork.  The  hook  took  a  cruel  hold  in  the  big 
fowl's  throat.  The  line  was  stretched  taut.  You 
would  have  thought  the  bird  would  break  his  long 
swan-neck,  he  struggled  so  madly  to  be  free. 
Four  men  held  the  line  ;  they  hauled  it  in  ;  they 
grappled  with  the  albatross  and  they  killed  him. 

The  mate  stood  horrified.  His  hands  were 
thrust  deep  in  the  pockets  of  his  blue  round 
about;  they  twitched  nervously.  His  mouth 
tightened  at  the  corners  and  made  deep  wrinkles 
in  his  yellow  checks.  He  turned  to  me  with  a 


170  THE    ALBATROSS. 

look  of  outraged  anxiety  and  spoke  tremulously, 
"  Cap'n  Bobbins,"  he  said,  "we  shall  all  be  very 
sorry  for  this  —  very,  very  sorry,  and  that  not 
many  days  from  now !  " 

"  As  for  the  truth  of  that  cheerful  prophecy," 
I  answered,  "  it's  more  a  matter  of  fact  than  of 
opinion.  Let  us  wait  and  see !  "  pleasantly 
enough  I  smiled  as  I  spoke,  but  Russell's  frown 
grew  only  the  gloomier. 

The  albatross  found  his  way  in  time  into  the 
cook's  coppers  and  thence  at  dinner-hour,  albeit  a 
trifle  tardy,  into  the  cabin.  He  was  served  in  a 
delicious  sea-pie,  though  my  wife,  who  was  then 
upon  her  first  voyage,  and  by  no  means  the  tall- 
water  epicure  she  afterward  became,  pronounced 
him  decidedly  strong  and  fishy. 

I  watched  the  mate  closely,  not  a  little  curious 
to  see  how  he  would  behave.  He  was  ashamed 
not  to  take  his  portion  of  that  double-decker  pie 
upon  his  plate,  but  I  noticed  that  he  contented 
himself  with  nibbling  the  potatoes  and  onions  that 
went  with  the  meat,  while  of  the  meat  itself  he 
never  tasted  the  tinest  morsel.  His  objections, 
forsooth,  were  conscientious.  He  was  not  going 
to  incur  the  guilt  of  cannibalism. 

"  Russell,"  I  said,  "  we  were  speaking  of  the 
possible  consequences  of  killing  an  albatross,  you 


THE    ALBATROSS.  171 

remember,  and  I  told  you  this  morning  that  I  had 
only  one  experience  to  judge  by.  That  is  hardly 
true.  There  was  another  occasion  I  ought  to 
have  mentioned." 

"  And  that  was  ?  - 

"  A  most  extraordinary  occurence,  Mr.  Russell. 
I  was  coming  home  from  one  of  my  merchant 
voyages.  The  ship  was  nearing  the  Gulf  Stream 
on  her  course  from  Pernambuco.  A  heavy  sou'- 
west  gale  was  blowing,  and  the  old  girl  was 
running  under  close-reefed  main  -  top  -  sail  and 
fore-sail. 

"We  entered  the  Gulf  Stream  about  midnight. 
The  wind  died  out  to  a  calm.  Heavy,  oily,  black 
clouds  piled  up  in  the  nor' -east  and  covered  the 
sky  till  it  was  dark  as  the  ship's  run.  I  thought 
the  wind  wrould  come  from  that  direction  and 
strike  the  ship  aback,  so  I  called  all  hands  to  take 
in  main-top-s'l  and  fore-s'l.  You  know  merchant 
ships  go  with  such  stingy  crews  it  leaves  you 
short-handed  at  a  time  like  that.  Consequently  I 
had  to  take  the  wheel. 

"  The  men  had  got  hold  of  the  clew-lines  and 
bunt-lines,  and  were  about  to  start  the  sheets, 
when  there  was  a  sudden  flash  in  the  sou'-west 
and  a  ball  of  blazing  fire  as  big  as  a  man's  head 
leaped  out  of  the  clouds.  It  dashed  across  the 


172  THE    ALBATROSS. 

sky.  It  made  for  our  ship.  It  started  at  an  angle 
of  forty-five  degrees,  and  it  modified  its  course 
into  a  curving  line  like  part  of  an  ellipse.  A 
trail  of  fire  followed  it.  It  struck  the  main-top- 
m'st  just  above  the  cap  on  the  head  of  the 
main-m'st  and  exploded  with  a  report  like  that  of 
a  rifle.  The  sparks  flew  into  the  belly  of  the 
main-top-s'l.  The  light  blinded  my  eyes. 

"  As  soon  as  I  could  see  again,  I  looked  for  my 
men.  They  had  all  tumbled  out  of  sight.  I 
locked  the  wheel  and  went  for'ard.  There  I 
found  the  crew  lying  on  the  deck  in  the  ship's 
waist  —  senseless  every  man  Jack  of  them.  After 
a  few  minutes  they  all  came  to  but  one.  He  was 
a  young  Portuguese.  We  carried  him  down  into 
the  cabin  and  rubbed  him  and  dosed  him  and  put 
smelling-salts  under  his  nose,  and  at  last  he 
opened  his  eyes  and  said,  '  Bono  Dio,  Cap,  I  don't 
want  see  all-same-that  again  ! ' 

u  In  the  morning  I  examined  the  mast  with  the 
utmost  care,  but  I  could  find  nowhere  any  mark 
left  by  that  flying  ball  of  flame.  The  thing  was 
evidently  a  sort  of  i  St.  Elmo's  Fire ' ;  but  you 
may  imagine  my  horror  when  I  found  my  crew 
all  unconscious.  Heavens !  I  thought  for  a 
moment  that  I  was  the  only  live  man  left  aboard 
that  ship!" 


THE    ALBATROSS.  173 

"  Yes,"  said  Russell,  "  I  have  read  of  such 
things,  and  I  knew  a  man  once  who  had  seen  one. 
He  called  it  a  corposant  —  or  compreserit,  some 
say  ;  but  what  puzzles  me,  Cap'n  Robbins,  is  to 
see  what  sort  of  connection  there  is  between  a 
ball  of  electric  fire  in  the  Gulf  Stream  and  the 
killing  of  an  albatross.  I  never  heard  of  albatrosses 
in  those  latitudes,  did  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,  hardly,"  I  answered,  "but  since  you've 
begun  to  enlighten  me,  I  am  inclined  to  attribute 
that  occurrence  to  an  albatross  I  had  i  murdered  * 
three  years  before  !  " 

Russell  munched  his  onions  and  potatoes  in 
silence.  I  hope  he  enjoyed  them.  The  conversa 
tion  lapsed ;  the  meal  was  nearly  done  before  it 
revived  again. 

The  next  day,  —  according  to  my  log-book  it 
was  the  twentieth  of  November,  back  in  fifty- 
nine, —  we  were  struck  by  a  furious  gale,  the 
first  real  storm  since  the  voyage  began.  Our 
little  bark  scudded  under  close-reefed  main-top 
sail  and  fore-sail  before  a  fierce  sou' west  wind. 
Albatross  or  no  albatross,  it  was  blowing  great 
guns.  The  ship  labored  frightfully.  The  green 
hand  at  the  helm  would  let  her  come  to  a  little 
now  and  then,  and  every  time  he  did  it,  she 
would  take  a  sea  in  the  waist  with  a  noise  like 


174  THE    ALBATROSS. 

thunder.  I  had  to  watch  him  as  you  watch  a 
madman. 

At  seven  bells  that  morning,  the  steward  had 
got  the  racks  on  the  table,  and  was  putting  our 
breakfast  in  readiness.  I  was  below  at  the 
moment.  The  ship  was  pitching  and  heaving  till 
I  thought  she  would  jump  the  sticks  out  of  her. 
Suddenly  she  brought  a  tremendous  roll  to  star 
board.  I  shouted  to  the  cabin-boy,  "  Look  out  for 
the  table ! "  but  the  words  were  no  more  than 
spoken  when  everything  slid  off  on  to  the  floor 
with  forty  different  kinds  of  jingles  and  crashes 
all  at  once.  My  wife  shieked  with  terror ;  she 
thought  we  were  wrecked ;  she  rushed  from  the 
state-room  in  her  night-gown,  and  just  at  that 
moment  a  monstrous  wave  pooped  the  Thomas 
Pope,  and  burst  over  the  ship's  port  quarter. 
Tons  of  salt  water  came  pounding  through  the 
sky-light  into  the  after-cabin,  and  Mrs.  Bobbins 
arrived  upon  the  scene  at  the  one  happy  moment 
when  she  would  get  the  full  benefit  of  it.  That 
sea-going  wife  of  mine  has  no  taste  for  immer 
sion  ;  but  on  that  memorable  morning  she  could 
not  choose  but  submit.  As  I  said  at  the  time, 
that  big,  cold  billow  baptized  her  for  the 
Indian  Ocean, 

I  was  glad,  a  few  days  later,  that  it  had  done 
so,  for  after  so  tremendous  an  initiation  she  never 


THE   ALBATROSS. 


175 


176  THE    ALBATKOSS. 

again  suffered  any  fear.  I  think  she  regarded 
herself  as  one  who  had  endured  the  worst  there 
was  to  endure,  and  resolved  not  to  be  annoyed  by 
trifles  thereafter. 

We  rounded  the  Cape,  and  then  the  weather 
became  more  pleasant.  We  steered  for  the 
Mozambique  Channel,  keeping  the  watch  on  deck 
busy  preparing  craft  and  cutting-gear  for  whaling. 
We  might  see  whales  at  any  time  now. 

Since  that  roaring  gale  off  the  Cape,  the  chief 
mate  had  never  mentioned  the  albatross.  But  I 
could,  nevertheless,  see  that  his  mind  was  not  at 
rest.  He  thought  albatross,  dreamed  albatross, 
and,  as  I  thought,  even  looked  albatross.  When 
the  weather  moderated  and  came  off  warm  and 
pleasant  with  favorable  winds,  I  watched  him 
with  a  curious  interest.  A  last  I  broached  the 
matter  myself. 

"  Mr.  Russell,"  I  said,  "  it  strikes  me  we  're 
going  to  come  off  alive  after  all,  spite  of  that 
cannibal  pot-pie !  " 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Cap'n  Bobbins,"  he  answered, 
unmistakably  nettled,  "we're  not  home  yet! 
No,  sir,  not  by  a  long  sea  mile  !  " 

No  sooner  had  he  spoken  those  ominous  words 
than  I  observed  a  hugh  rolling  swell,  miles  in 
extent,  and  straight  as  the  spanker-boom,  coming 


THE    ALBATROSS.  177 

down  upon  us  from  the  north' ard.  The  wind  had 
died  out  to  a  flat  calm.  There  was  not  a  ripple 
of  white  water  under  the  ship's  fore-foot.  There 
was  not  a  streak  of  foam  nor  so  much  as  a  bubble 
in  her  wake.  It  was  an  Irishman's  tempest, 
straight  up  and  down  !  The  air  was  hazy,  sultry, 
and  almost  unbearably  hot.  There  could  then  be 
but  one  meaning  in  the  powerful  swell  that 
bore  down  upon  the  Thomas  Pope.  To  the 
northward,  just  beyond  that  peaceful  horizon, 
a  hurricane  was  raging.  The  roller  had  been 
sent  out  by  it. 

A  ripple  rushes  out  from  a  stone  dropped  in  a 
mill-pond.  That  roller  was  the  ripple  magnified 
to  sublime  proportions. 

Another  roller  —  another !  Then,  quicker  than 
the  first  three,  still  another !  And  as  yet  no 
faintest  flaw  of  wind ! 

We  were  trapped.  The  albatross  would  be 
avenged,  and  Russell  vindicated. 

We  were  then  about  in  the  middle  of  Mozam 
bique  Channel.  Madagascar  was  some  three 
hundred  miles  to  the  eastward,  and  the  coast 
of  Africa  about  the  same  distance  off  in  the 
opposite  direction. 

For  a  day  and  a  night  the  flat  calm  continued. 
Then  a  light  breeze  sprang  up  from  the  sou' east. 


12 


178 


THE    ALBATROSS. 


"THOMAS  POPE"  BEFORE  THE  STORM. 


THE    ALBATROSS.  179 

All  the  afternoon  the  wind  increased,  first  grad 
ually,  then  rapidly,  so  rapidly  that  at  sundown  we 
had  the  Pope  under  storm  canvas  —  close-reefed 
top-sails  and  reefed  foresail.  The  wind  kept  fresh 
ening.  It  veered  steadily  toward  the  east.  It 
raged  with  increasing  fury,  a  fresh  hand  at  the 
bellows.  The  ship  was  talking  loudly — pitching 
and  pounding — bobbing  at  it  with  a  will.  At  ten 
o'clock  it  was  blowing  a  furious  gale.  We  had 
got  in  all  sail,  save  close-reef  main-top-sail  and 
reefed  fore-sail.  At  mid-night  matters  grew  worse. 
We  got  the  Pope  under  main-spencer  and  fore- 
top-mastrstay-sail.  The  wind  was  blowing  with 
maddened  frenzy.  The  ship  was  over  on  her 
beam  ends,  with  larboard  rails  and  three  boats 
under  water. 

I  called  all  hands  to  batten  down  the  hatches. 
We  stretched  the  tarpaulins  tight  across  them  and 
we  nailed  the  battens  fast  to  the  coamings  and 
head-ledges. 

By  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  spencers 
and  fore-top-mast  stay-sails  had  blown  away.  The 
sails  on  the  yards  were  working  loose  from  under 
the  gaskets.  I  sent  men  into  the  rigging  to 
secure  them,  but  they  could  not  get  aloft.  When 
they  were  about  ten  feet  up,  the  wind  pinned 
them  tight  against  the  ratlines.  They  were  like 


180  THE    ALBATROSS. 

dead  men.  I  shouted  to  them  to  come  back,  but 
the  wind  carried  the  sound  away.  You  could  not 
have  made  them  hear  with  a  trumpet.  I  waved 
my  arms  at  them  and  they  struggled  down  on 
deck  and  made  their  way  aft  with  ducked  heads, 
coming  hand  over  hand,  clinging  to  the  belaying 
pins  along  the  starboard  bulwarks. 

The  storm  had  its  way.  The  sails  blew  out 
from  under  the  gaskets.  They  were  nearly  new 
canvas,  but  they  were  blown  into  strips  like 
ribbons.  The  ship  shook  with  a  frightful  tremor. 

The  wind  was  blowing  with  such  force  that  the 
sea  could  not  rise.  Instead,  it  was  rolling  over 
with  a  white  foam ;  and  the  foam,  as  it  dashed 
against  the  weather  side  of  the  ship,  would  send  a 
spray  over  us  like  fine,  drifting  snow. 

It  was  full  moon,  and  that  heightened  the 
terror.  It  made  the  dangers  visible  and  invisible 
by  turns,  for  clouds  rushed  over  our  heads  with 
frightful  rapidity.  They  were  very  low  —  so  low 
it  seemed  as  if  we  could  reach  them.  They  were 
like  frightened  spirits  fleeing  from  the  wrath  of 
the  storm-god  ! 

The  cargo  was  secured  with  billets  of  wood,  so 
I  had  no  fears  on  that  score.  There  was  no 
danger  of  its  shifting.  The  real  peril  was  the 
chance  of  being  blown  ashore  on  the  coast  of 


THE    ALBATROSS.  181 

Africa,  and  losing  our  lives  in  the  surf  ;  but  the 
wind  kept  veering  and  that  held  us  oft'. 

The  hurricane  increased  in  fury  until  the  ship 
was  pressed  bodily  down  into  the  water  and  held 
there. 

Resolving  to  make  sacrifices  to  save  our  lives,  I 
ordered  the  top-mast  back-stays  cut  away,  and 
when  that  was  done  the  masts  went  crashing  over 
the  ship's  sides,  carrying  everything  aloft  with 
them.  They  lay  thumping  against  the  vessel 
till  I  thought  they  would  stave  her  side  in. 
To  prevent  this,  I  ordered  all  the  lee  rigging 
cut  away. 

The  men  started  from  the  hurricane-house. 
Six  had  knives  and  axes,  and  each  of  them 
had  a  rope  round  his  waist.  Six  others  had 
hold  of  the  ropes,  and  clung  to  any  stable 
thing  they  could  reach  —  some  grasping  the 
weather  lash-rail,  some  seizing  hold  of  the  sky 
light,  and  one  taking  a  turn  round  the  stump  of 
the  mizzen-mast — while  the  men  with  the  axes 
and  boarding-knives  went  down  the  sloping  deck ; 
and,  standing  in  water  up  to  their  waists,  hacked 
at  the  rigging.  The  wind  blew  so  powerfully 
that  it  was  next  to  impossible  to  swing  an  axe. 
Most  of  the  work  was  done  with  knives. 

Even  the  sacrifice  of  all  three  masts  seemed  to 
have  no  effect  toward  easing  the  ship.  No  sooner 


182  THE   ALBATROSS. 

had  my  men  crawled  back  under  the  hurricane- 
house  than  a  tremendous  breaching  sea  boarded 
us  over  the  weather  side  the  whole  length  of  the 
vessel,  staving  bulwarks  and  clearing  everything 
off  deck  —  lee  boats,  craft,  oars,  everything  but 
our  try-works,  weather  boat  and  cook's  galley. 

The  hurricane  continued  with  unabated  fury 
until  eight  o'clock  the  next  morning.  Then  it 
steadily  died  out,  and  at  noon  it  was  nearly  calm. 
But  as  the  wind  went  down  the  sea  came  up.  The 
waves  rose  to  a  dizzy  height. 

Despite  the  difficulty  in  keeping  our  footing  — 
for  the  ship  tossed  and  rolled  helplessly  with  not 
a  stitch  of  canvas  to  steady  her  —  all  hands  were 
busy  clearing  away  the  wreck,  for  a  tangle  of 
rigging  still  remained,  and  there  were  several 
spars  alongside,  though  fortunately  none  of  them 
end-on. 

There  was  a  calm  for  the  space  of  four  hours, 
and  during  that  calm  the  ship  was  covered  with 
birds,  which  had  been  blown  off  from  the  land  — 
gulls,  hawks,  boobies,  parrots,  cockatoos,  cranes 
and  pheasants  —  bright-colored  waifs,  wearied  with 
the  storm  and  so  eager  for  a  place  to  rest  that 
they  forgot  their  natural  fears  of  one  another  and 
of  human  kind.  They  perched  on  the  tops  of 
the  broken  masts  ;  they  sat  upon  the  dismantled 


THE    ALBATROSS.  183 

stanchions;  they  crowded  the  rail  —  where  any 
rail  remained ;  they  swarmed  in  a  many-tinted 
flock  upon  the  shattered  skylight ;  they  lit  upon 
our  heads  and  shoulders.  It  was  calm  because 
we  were  then  in  the  centre  of  a  revolving  storm. 
The  birds  had  sought  its  centre  by  instinct. 

At  half-past  four  the  wind  began  blowing  again 
with  terrific  force  from  the  west.  The  starboard 
rail  and  the  one  boat  left  on  the  cranes  went 
under  water.  When  the  ship  began  to  rise  it 
took  the  boat  off.  We  had  the  full  power  of  the 
hurricane  until  noon  the  next  day,  and  all  that 
while  we  were  entirely  helpless  and  lay  at  the 
mercy  of  the  winds  and  waves,  all  hands  aft  under 
the  house  for  safety. 

Now,  ever  since  the  storm  began,  my  wife  and 
children  had  been  lying  below  in  her  stateroom  in 
utter  darkness.  It  was  impossible  to  keep  a  light 
burning  ;  and  when  the  mizzen-mast  went  over 
the  side,  it  smashed  the  skylight  and  we  had  to 
batten  it  down  as  you  do  the  hatches. 

Every  little  while  I  would  go  below  to  the 
cabin  and  ask  Mrs.  Bobbins  if  she  wanted  me  to 
stay  with  her,  but  she  insisted  I  must  remain 
on  deck. 

"  We  are  safe  in  God's  hands,"  she  said,  "  and 
He  will  care  for  us  and  do  what  is  best  for  us  all." 


184  THE    ALBATROSS. 

Her  courage  was  magnificent.  She  seemed  to 
have  no  anxiety  for  herself.  All  her  fears  were 
for  the  poor  sailors  on  deck.  She  urged  that  I 
must  be  there  "  to  save  them  from  being  washed 
overboard.'' 

One  of  the  children,  tired  and  restless  from  lack 
of  sleep,  piped  up,  "  Papa,  why  doesn't  God  make 
the  wind  stop  blowing  ?  " 

Once,  when  the  wind  was  raging  its  worst,  the 
second  mate  came  up  to  me  and  said,  "  Cap'n,  I 
must  go  below  —  I've  taken  a  terrible  tumble  and 
almost  broken  my  back  !  " 

I  knew  the  man  was  lying ;  but  as  he  was 
too  frightened  to  be  of  any  use  on  deck,  and  as 
he  might  possibly  be  some  company  for  my  wife, 
I  sent,  him  below. 

There  the  fellow  dropped  on  his  knees  upon  the 
cabin  floor  and  began  to  pray  for  his  "  dear  wife 
at  home!"  That  was  too  much  for  Mrs.  Robbins, 
and  she  giggled  outright. 

"  Mr.  Simpkins,"  she  cried,  "  it  seems  to  me 
you'd  show  more  sense  to  pray  for  the  folks  in 
peril  for  their  lives  aboard  this  wreck,  instead  of 
praying  for  a  clear  lady  seven  thousand  miles 
away  on  dry  land ! "  After  that  the  officer 
prayed  in  silence  or  not  at  all. 

Ever  since  the  hurricane  began,  and  it  had  now 
been  raging  for  forty-eight  hours,  I  had  fed  my 


THE    ALBATROSS. 


185 


186  THE    ALBATROSS. 

men  on  canned  provisions  I  had  brought  for  the 
cabin  table.  Lucky  dogs  they  were  to  get  a 
mouthful !  Cooking  was  out  of  the  question. 
But  now,  as  the  weather  moderated,  Mrs.  Robbins 
came  to  our  relief.  With  the  aid  of  her  little 
alcohol  lamp  she  made  coffee  for  those  sorry 
toilers  of  the  sea  —  the  strongest  coffee  and  the 
best,  said  one  and  all  that  had  ever  been  boiled 
aboard  a  wrecked  blubber-hunter  ! 

When,  at  last,  the  wind  hauled  to  the  south  and 
died  away  and  the  tempest  was  over,  we  began  to 
take  account  of  stock.  As  O'Hoolihan  has  it,  we 
stood  off  and  looked  at  ourselves.  We  counted 
our  bruises. 

Merciless  Neptune,  what  a  finding  !  Jib-boom 
gone  at  the  cap  on  the  bow-sprit ;  fore-mast 
broken  away  at  the  eyes  of  the  rigging,  turning 
the  fore-top  over  till  the  cross-trees  pointed  to  the 
zenith ;  main-mast  snapped  off  at  the  head ; 
mizzen-mast  gone,  save  a  wretched  stump  about 
seven  feet  tall ;  bulwarks  and  rails  shattered ; 
and  five  of  our  six  boats  missing  ! 

What  a  frightful  change  had  come  over  that 
poor,  storm-stricken  ship  !  A  handsome,  well- 
found  barky  she  had  been  only  two  days  before  — 
taut  and  in  perfect  trim,  "  man-o'-war  fashion," 
as  sailors  say  —  but  now  she  was  a  pitiable, 


THE    ALBATROSS.  187 

dismantled  wreck,  though,  thanks  to  the  faith 
fulness  of  her  builders,  her  stanch  live-oak  hull 
was  sound  and  tight. 

That  cabin  of  ours  was  a  sight  to  behold.  It 
was  a  week  before  we  could  make  it  a  decent 
place  to  live  in,  for  everything  was  drenched  with 
salt  water  ;  and  the  two  harness-casks,  containing 
salted  beef  and  pork  and  pickles,  had  worked  out 
of  their  lashings  and  emptied  their  savory  con 
tents  down  the  sky-light  into  the  cabin.  Mrs. 
Bobbins  thought  it  was  "much  nicer  to  keep 
house  on  land." 

But  we  were  safe  and  sound,  every  one  of  us. 
Even  the  "  injured "  second  mate,  who  was 
obliged  to  go  below  on  account  of  the  "  terrible 
tumble v  he  had  taken,  had  now  recovered  the 
use  of  his  spine.  Furthermore,  we  were  well 
provisioned.  We  had  food  enough  and  water 
enough  to  last  us  till  we  could  reach  some 
civilized  port  and  refit  the  Pope.  It  might  be  a 
tedious  passage,  but  we  had  nothing  in  particular 
to  be  afraid  of  —  considering. 

So  we  made  the  best  of  a  bad  matter.  We 
rigged  up  jury-masts,  and  in  a  week's  time  we 
were  able  to  set  top-sails  and  courses,  jib  and 
spanker. 

I  was  puzzled  at  first  to  know  what  port  to 
make  for.  If  we  kept  on  our  course  to  the 


188  THE    ALBATROSS. 

northward,  we  should  have  favorable  winds ;  but 
I  could  think  of  no  port  in  that  direction  where 
we  could  be  sure  of  getting  spars  and  whale-boats 
and  rigging.  In  fact,  the  only  port  really  to  be 
considered  was  Mauritius.  So  thither  we  turned, 
keeping  the  ship  headed  to  the  southward,  and 
beat  around  the  south  of  Madagascar.  Forty 
days  after  the  hurricane  we  sighted  the  Mauritian 
harbor  of  Port  Louis.  Considering  that  the  Pope 
was  a  wrecked  ship  under  frail  jury-masts,  and 
considering  also  that  we  had  to  contend  against 
rugged  weather  nearly  all  the  way,  I  thought  that 
I  had  done  my  duty  faithfully  and  succeeded 
triumphantly. 

As  we  were  limping  into  port,  Russell  came  up 
to  me  with  an  insinuating  look  in  his  sly  little 
eyes.  "  Cap'n  Robbins,"  he  said,  "  if  you  will 
pardon  me,  I  have  something  unpleasant  to  say  to 
you.  I  think  it  only  just  to  myself  to  insist  that 
if  you  had  taken  my  advice  we  should  not  now  be 
putting  into  Port  Louis  for  repairs  !  " 

"  What  advice,  pray  ?  " 

"  Why,  don't  you  remember  ?  I  mean  my 
advice  about  the  albatross,  of  course  —  the  poor, 
white  murdered  albatross.  Have  you  forgotten 
that  when  you  insisted  upon  having  that  bird 
killed  I  said,  '  Cap'n  Robbins,  we  shall  all  be  very 
sorry  for  this?'" 


THE    ALBATROSS. 


189 


190  THE   ALBATROSS. 

"  Russell !  "  I  shouted,  forgetting  in  my  amuse 
ment  to  give  my  mate  his  "  Mister,"  "  what  on 
earth  do  you  mean  by  thrusting  a  lubberly  f'c's'le 
superstition  into  the  face  of  the  master  of  a  ship  ? 
Whaling  cap'ns  don't  know  —  poor,  grass-combing 
waisters  !  But  before  the  mast — oh,  that's  the 
place  to  look  for  erudition  !  Oh,  yes !  That's  the 
place  to  find  the  true  navigator!  That's  the 
place,  and  not  the  quarter-deck  !  " 

Russell  turned  a  paler  shade  of  yellow  than 
usual — he  was  thoroughly  scared. 

"  But,  Cap'n,  in  justice  to  myself,  I  must  insist 
that  the  fact  about  the  albatross  rests  upon 
surer  ground  than  any  mere  fo'c's'le  gossip.  I 
have  it,  sir,  upon  the  authority  of  Coleridge  !  " 

"  Coleridge  !  "  I  bellowed,  in  a  voice  that  would 
have  quelled  a  mutiny. 

"  Yes,  Coleridge." 

"  What  Coleridge  ?  " 

."  Why,  Coleridge  the  writer." 

"  Writer  on  navigation  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  no,  of  course  not.  I  mean  the  writer 
of  poetry." 

"  Not  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  ?  Thunder  and 
lightning,  what  a  first  mate!  Samuel  Taylor 
Coleridge  f  And  you  have  the  lordly  impudence 
to  thrust  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  into  the  face 


THE   ALBATKOSS.  191 

of  the  master  of  a  New  Bedford  whaler !  By 
George,  you  deserve  to  be  —  !  " 

But  I  turned  on  my  heel  and  trod  the  quarter 
deck  in  silence.  Already  a  tug-boat  was  coming 
out  to  meet  us.  She  came  alongside,  haggled 
as  usual,  closed  the  bargain,  and  took  our  line. 
As  soon  as  we  were  well  under  way  again,  I 
approached  Russell  once  more.  I  tried  to  acquire 
an  insinuating,  Russell-like  look  in  my  own  eyes. 

"  Mr.  Russell,"  I  began,  "  if  you  will  pardon 
me,  I  have  something  unpleasant  to  say  to  you. 
I  think  it  only  just  to  myself  to  insist  that,  if  you 
take  my  advice,  you'll  save  wear  and  tear  on  your 
nervous  constitution  by  bidding  a  fond  adieu  to 
this  nonsense.  Come  !  You're  an  officer  now. 
Just  shake  yourself  free  of  the  fo'c's'le.  And  I 
tell  you,  too,  Mr.  Russell,  that  it  rests  on  better 
authority  than  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge.  It  rests 
on  the  authority  of  a  good  seaman  !  "  (Laughing 
in  my  sleeve.) 

Poor,  humiliated  Russell !  He  wriggled  in  his 
roundabout  and  grew  yellower  than  before.  He 
looked  like  a  bilious  Cape  Codder. 

"  Why,  Charles !  "  called  a  gfentle  voice  from 
the  cabin  doorway,  "  you're  not  going  to  dis 
charge  Mr.  Russell  because  he  believes  in  the 
'  Ancient  Mariner  !  ' 


192  THE    ALBATROSS. 

It  was  my  wife.  She  had  been  down  below, 
preparing  our  "  long  togs  "  to  go  ashore,  and  now 
she  had  come  on  deck  just  in  time  to  overhear  my 
remarks  to  Russell. 

"  Hannah,  my  dear,"  said  I,  "  Mr.  Russell  is  by 
no  means  discharged.  I  beg  you,  don't  worry  ! 
Mr.  Russell  is  the  best  mate  I  ever  had  in  all  my 
sea-faring  days,  only  he's  capable  of  improve 
ment  yet.  And  as  for  the  albatross  —  his  poor, 
'  murdered'  albatross  —  'seems  to  me  you've  got 
those  wings  somewhere,  haven't  you  ?  Well, 
we'll  make  some  kind  of  a  feather  ornament  of 
them,  and  hang  it  up  in  the  cabin,  my  dear,  for  a 
mascot.  For  if  there's  any  meaning  at  all  in  a 
6  murdered '  albatross  (which  same  I  gravely 
doubt)  it  means  that  when  you've  been  wrecked 
in  a  hurricane  out  on  the  Mozambique  channel, 
you  get  into  Port  Louis  with  all  hands  alive  and 
unhurt!  Eh,  Russell?" 


THE  CAPTAIN. 

THE  Captain  does  not  always  talk  in  the  jargon 
of  the  fo'c's'le.  In  fact  it  might  be  said  he  uses 
it  merely  when  he  "  spins  a  yarn"  in  order  to  be 
more  realistic.  He  talks  with  his  family,  his 
friends  at  home  and  his  townspeople  like  any 
well-educated  man  whose  school-days  are  far 
behind  him,  but  who  has  learned  more  of  men 
and  things  from  cruising  about  the  world  than  any 
books  could  teach.  So  this  last  chapter  shall  be 
told  in  the  every-day  language  he  commonly  uses 
when  in  port  among  his  fellow-men. 

There  are  several  anecdotes  of  himself  that  the 
Captain  has  forgotten  to  relate.  Perhaps  he  did 
not  think  them  of  sufficient  importance,  but  I  do, 
and  so  will  you  when  I  have  told  them  as  they 

were  told  to  rne. 
* 
The  Captain,  like  many  another  old  salt,  loves 

dearly  his  country's  flag,  though  he  does  not  say 
much  about  it.  But  he  has  carried  it  into  too 
many  strange  countries  and  welcomed  the  sight  of 
it  like  a  friend  from  home  in  too  many  foreign 
ports  not  to  be  fond  of  it. 

Though  he  never  went  to  war  he  had  an  oppor 
tunity  to  defend  the  flag  when  it  was  insulted  in 
an  alien  country. 

13 


194  THE    CAPTAIN. 

The  Captain  used  to  tell  us  this  story.    He  said: 

"  I  was  seated  one  day  beneath  the  shade  of 
some  great  trees  in  front  of  an  hotel  in  St. 
Helena  with  two  other  American  captains. 

"  It  was  very  hot  and  the  streets  were  almost 
deserted.  Nobody  seemed  to  be  about.  We  sat 
there  quietly  enjoying  ourselves,  when  we  saw 
three  burly-looking  sailors  coming  up  the  street. 

"  They  belonged  on  a  large  English  ship  that 
had  just  anchored  in  the  harbor.  They  were 
rough-looking,  and  evidently  meant  to  make 
trouble  for  somebody  if  they  could. 

The  United  States  consul's  office  was  exactly 
opposite  us,  and  of  course  our  flag  was  flying  from 
a  tall  staff  in  front. 

"  When  the  sailors  came  up  to  it,  they  began 
to  call  out  in  derision,  insulting  the  stars  and 
stripes.  Then  they  cast  off  the  halyards  and 
hauled  it  down,  cursing  in  the  vilest  language  the 
6  bloody  Yankee  flag,'  as  they  called  it,  and 
wrapping  it  about  themselves,  trailing  it  in 
the  dust. 

" '  We  could  stand  it  no  longer,'  said  the 
Captain.  '  We  felt  it  was  time  we  took  a  hand. 
So  when  they  began  to  pitch  into  the  consul's 
clerk,  who  came  out  to  try  to  rescue  the  flag,  we, 
too  laid  hold  of  them  and  a  general  fight  ensued. 


THE    CAPTAIN.  195 

"  '  We  did  not  intend  to  hurt  the  men,  but  we 
did  mean  to  hold  them  until  the  police  came. 

"  ( I  had  my  man  down  and  was  holding  him 
with  both  hands  when  he  reached  up  and  grabbed 
my  long  whiskers.  He  had  me  then  completely 
at  his  mercy.  I  could  not  release  myself. 

" 6  The  clerk  ran  out  of  the  office  to  relieve  me, 
and  in  trying  to  strike  down  the  hands  of  the  man 
beneath  me  he  gave  me  a  severe  blow  over  my 
eye  with  an  ebony  ruler.  It  was  so  sore  I  had 
to  stay  in  my  room  for  several  days. 

" ( The  sailors  were  arrested  and  fined  three 
pounds  each.  Their  captain  paid  their  fine  and 
the  police  put  them  on  board  their  ship. 

" '  We  found  out  afterwards  that  they  came  on 
shore  with  the  intention  of  making  a  '  row  '  and 
getting  shut  up,  hoping  their  captain  would  go 
without  them  ;  but  you  see  their  plan  did  not 
succeed.'  ' 

It  was  during  the  war  of  1863  that  the  Captain 
was  at  St.  Helena,  and  he  was  one  day  on  shore 
dining  at  the  hotel.  There  were  a  number  of 
ladies  and  gentlemen  in  the  party.  Several  of 
the  latter  were  captains  of  American  ships  that 
lay  in  port. 

The  Captain  said  : 

"  A  large  English  ship  had  just  anchored  in  the 
harbor,  and  her  Captain  came  ashore  to  take  dinner. 


196  THE    CAPTAIN. 

"  He  evidently  had  left  his  good  manners  aboard 
ship,  for  he  entered  the  room  in  a  blustering 
manner,  ignoring  the  ladies  present,  and  seated 
himself  near  the  head  of  the  table  and  began  to 
talk  to  an  English  officer  who  was  one  of  the 
guests,  about  our  Civil  War,  asking  questions  in 
a  most  offensive  manner. 

"  We  were  all  feeling  very  much  pleased  over 
the  news  of  victory  we  had  received  and  some  one 
began  to  tell  the  captain  of  Sherman's  march  to 
the  sea. 

"  The  English  captain,  whom  we  afterwards 
learned  was  one  of  England's  naval  reserves, 
spoke  up  in  a  loud  and  boasting  tone,  saying, 
'  Well,  sir,  we  will  go  over  and  heip  the  South 
erners  whip  the  Yankees  when  we  get  back  to 
England.' 

"  Captain  Kelley,  an  American  and  a  man  of 
small  statue,  was  sitting  near  me,  and  I  noticed 
his  temper  was  rising.  He  could  not  sit  still  in 
his  chair.  As  the  English  captain  went  on  with 
his  boisterous  and  blustering  talk,  he  jumped  to 
his  feet,  pushed  up  his  coat-sleeves,  looked  the 
Englishman  full  in  the  face,  and  said,  '  It  is  not 
necessary  for  you  to  wait  to  whip  Yankees.  Come 
out  into  the  street  and  I  will  give  you  a  chance, 
for  I'm  a  Yankee.' 


THE    CAPTAIN.  197 

"  Kelley  was  about  one-half  the  size  of  the 
Englishman,  who  looked  thoroughly  ashamed. 
He  made  a  lame  sort  of  an  apology  and  left  the 
house.  He  got  his  supplies  on  board  that -very 
afternoon  and  sailed  that  night,  so  we  never  saw 
him  again." 

"How  did  I  happen  to  be  in  St.  Helena?" 
said  the  Captain. 

"It  happened  this  way.  We  lay  in  the  harbor 
of  Mauritius  two  months  repairing  damages,  and 
getting  new  masts,  rigging  and  sails ;  but  we 
couldn't  get  a  whaling  boat. 

"  My  crew  were  deserting  and  good  men  were 
hard  to  obtain  in  that  quarter,  so  as  soon  as  my 
sails  were  ready,  I  put  to  sea  arid  finished  rigging 
her.  If  any  whales  had  come  in  sight  we  couldn't 
have  taken  them,  as  we  had  only  one  boat. 

"  After  being  a  month  at  sea,  we  spoke  the 
Plover,  another  whaler,  and  got  one  old  boat 
from  her.  So,  having  now  two  boats,  we  suc 
ceeded  in  capturing  two  whales. 

u  At  the  end  of  six  months  we  put  into  Port 
Louis  and  found  four  new  whale-boats  had  been 
sent  us.  But  we  were  in  as  bad  a  condition  as 
before,  for  now  we  ha'd  plenty  of  boats  and  no 
crew  to  man  them. 

"  We  went  to  the  Seychelle  Islands  and  there  I 
shipped  nine  men.  We  cruised  in  the  Indian 


198  THE    CAPTAIN. 

Ocean  for  two  years,  with  poor  success,  so  I 
decided  to  head  the  bark  homeward.  We  had 
fine  weather  round  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  and 
steered  straight  for  the  Island  of  St.  Helena, 
where  we  stayed  two  weeks,  so  I  had  a  chance  to 
see  all  there  was  in  that  noted  place." 

St.  Helena  lies  in  the  track  of  all  vessels  bound 
from  Cape  of  Good  Hope  to  the  United  States. 

"  You  know,  perhaps,  that  the  island  is  twenty- 
eight  miles  in  circumference,  and  is  in  latitude 
15°  55"  South,  longitude  5°  42"  West.  It  rises 
up  out  of  the  sea  like  a  great  tower  on  the 
horizon.  You  can  see  it  forty  miles  away,  a 
great  blur  in  the  distance,  on  a  clear  day.  As 
the  vessel  approaches  it,  Dana's  peak,  2,700  feet 
high,  is  first  seen  above  the  clouds. 

"  The  island  has  good  anchorage  on  the  north 
side  abreast  of  Jamestown. 

"  I  took  my  family  on  shore  and  we  visited 
many  parts  of  the  island  and  all  the  places  that 
are  of  world-wide  interest  on  account  of  their 
connection  with  the  great  Napoleon.  The  Briars, 
where  he  lived  while  Longwood  Old  House  was 
being  prepared  for  him,  .was  occupied  by  my 
esteemed  friend,  George  Moss,  Esq.  It  is  situ 
ated  on  a  plateau  at  the  foot  of  the  hills  and 
has  a  fine  garden.  It  is  surrounded  by  wild  and 


THE    CAPTAIN.  199 

rocky  scenery.  The  Briars  has  always  been  kept 
as  it  was  when  Napoleon  lived  there.  In  one  of 
the  rooms  it  is  said  that  he  gave  the  dictation  to 
6  Las  Casas.' 

"  Longwood  Old  House  was  originally  a  farm 
house,  but  verandas  were  added  and  the  place 
otherwise  improved.  After  Napoleon's  death  the 
house  fell  into  a  state  of  dilapidation. 

"  Longwood  New  House  was  built  for  Napoleon, 
but  he  never  lived  in  it.  It  is  a  one-storied  build 
ing,  and  has  fifty-six  rooms  of  various  sizes. 

"  It  is  pleasantly  situated  in  the  Eastean  part  of 
the  island,  1,760  feet  above  the  sea. 

"  Another  interesting  building  is  St.  Paul's 
church,  in  whose  graveyard  are  buried  many 
strangers  who  have  died  on  the  island. 

"  Jamestown  is  in  a  valley  between  two  lofty 
hills  and  is  a  picturesque  spot,  with  roads  winding 
up  the  hills  on  each  side. 

"  Ladder  Hill  is  600  feet  high,  and  is  crowned 
with  a  strong  fort  with  barracks  for  a  regiment  of 
soldiers. 

"  If  one  wishes  to  ascend  it  he  may  go  by  the 
road  which  winds  up  the  sides  of  the  hill,  or, 
curiously  enough,  by  a  long  ladder  with  365 
steps,  which  reaches  from  the  town  at  the  bottom 
to  the  fortress  at  the  top." 


200  THE    CAPTAIN. 

Tell  us  some  of  your  adventures  while  there, 
Captain. 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  have  given  you  geography  and 
history  enough.  But  it  is  pleasant  for  me  to 
remember  I  have  been  in  the  very  rooms  where 
the  great  Napoleon  planned  and  thought  and 
regretted  his  life  away. 

"  Our  adventures  ?  Well,  here's  one.  The 
very  first  day  we  went  ashore  we  had  dinner  in 
Smith's  hotel.  While  we  were  eating,  down  came 
the  walls  over  our  heads  covering  us  with  plaster. 

"  No,  it  wasn't  an  earthquake,  but  the  wrork  of 
the  white  ant  which  eats  up  the  woodwork  of  the 
houses  and  down  they  fall  when  least  expected. 
I  tell  you,  it  is  dangerous.  So  some  of  the 
dwellings  are  made  of  teak  wood  and  the  ware 
houses  of  iron,  both  indestructible  by  this  pest. 

"  We  had  many  drives  about  the  island,  visiting 
Napoleon's  grave  and  drinking  from  the  spring 
near  Longwood,  where  he  walked  every  day  as 
long  as  he  was  able.  It  is  a  pleasant  spot,  cool 
and  shady  from  the  overhanging  willow  trees. 

"  Pleasant  as  was  our  stay  in  St.  Helena,  after 
our  long  ocean  voyage,  we  were  glad  to  point  the 
bow  of  our  vessel  homeward. 

"  Yet  we  were  troubled  greatly  by  rumors  we 
had  heard  of  the  Confederate  cruisers,  always 


"LADDER  HILL"  AT  ST.  HELENA, 


THE    CAPTAIN.  201 

ready  to  pick  up  vessels  belonging  to  the  North, 
and  we  kept  a  good  watch  out,  I  assure  you,  for 
such  cruisers. 

"  North  of  the  Bermudas  we  saw  traces  of  the 
foe  in  the  shape  of  an  abandoned  hull,  her  masts 
gone,  and  bearing  the  marks  of  fire.  We  ran 
near  enough  to  hail  her,  but  no  one  was  on  board. 

"  At  last  wre,  too,  ran  into  danger.  When  only 
fifty  miles  south  of  Nantucket  Shoals,  our  lookout 
sighted  a  steamer  two  points  off  our  lee  bow.  I 
went  aloft,  fearing  the  worst.  My  fears  were 
confirmed  when  I  made  her  out  to  be  a  long, 
rakish,  bark-rigged  steamer,  standing  across  our 
bows  and  heading  towards  the  north. 

"  I  was  sure  we  were  lost.  But  we  had  suffered 
all  kinds  of  perils  and  were  to  be  spared  this.  For 
a  large  ship  had  been  in  sight  of  us  all  day  about 
eight  miles  to  the  windward,  steering  in  the  same 
direction  that  we  were. 

"  She  was  a  richer  prize  than  we  would  be,  and 
we  saw  through  our  glasses  the  steamer  overhaul 
her  and  send  a  boat  to  board  her. 

"  It  was  about  sunset  when  this  happened.  So 
we  clapped  on  all  sail,  put  out  our  lights  and 
sailed  away,  fearing  lest  the  steamer  should  take 
us  ;  but  the  next  day  it  was  thick  and  foggy,  and 
we  saw  the  steamer  no  more. 


202  THE    CAPTAIN. 

"  About  thirty  miles  south  of  No  Man's  Land 
we  fell  in  with  a  fleet  of  fishing  vessels  and  gave 
them  a  great  fright,  for  they  thought  we  were  the 
enemy. 

"  When  we  lowered  a  boat  to  go  alongside  of 
them,  we  could  see  them  pulling  in  their  lines  to 
try  to  escape  us. 

"  But  we  soon  convinced  them  we  were  all 
right,  and  exchanged  some  of  our  salt  pork  for 
a  fine  mess  of  fresh  mackerel.  They  told  us  how 
the  land  bore,  and  the  next  morning,  June  25,  at 
five  o'clock,  we  came  to  anchor  off  Butler's  flat  in 
the  lower  harbor,  New  Bedford. 

"  We  had  left  St.  Helena  on  the  first  of  May, 
and  it  was  just  three  years  and  eleven  months 
since  we  had  sailed  from  home  on  what  proved  a 
long,  disastrous  and  unfortunate  voyage. 

"  We  had  suffered  from  a  severe  hurricane, 
losing  our  boats,  which  were  not  replaced  for 
nearly  a  year. 

"  Our  officers  and  crew  had  deserted  us,  which 
completely  spoiled  our  plans. 

"  Yet  our  ship  was  new  and  well-provisioned, 
and  we  were  so  far  from  home  we  could  not  return. 

"  We  had  seen  whales  enough  to  overload  us 
with  oil,  but  we  could  not  capture  them  because 
we  had  not  men  enough  to  do  it. 


THE    CAPTAIN.  203 

"  Yet,  when  we  got  home,  oil  was  so  high  that 
what  we  had  brought  a  good  price,  so  our  voyage 
was  a  paying  one,  after  all. 

"  Oh,  I  must  tell  you  that  we  found  out  after 
we  got  ashore  the  vessel  that  we  saw  captured 
was  the  Isaac  Webb  of  New  York,  and  that  after 
catching  her,  the  steamer  tried  to  find  us,  but 
thanks  to  the  fog  and  our  good  fortune,  she  was 
unsuccessful." 


